Enjoy The Moment
by Arumei
Summary: A sequential set of one shots illustrating the slow yet steady evolution of Lieutenant Carter Blake and Agent Norman Jayden's relationship into one that's more than just sexual.
1. Enjoy the Moment

**Rated M for...well, I'd hate to ruin what for, but if you haven't guessed from the ambiguity of the title and description, this is a Blake/Jayden piece of fiction.**

**Any attempt to add a plot to this would only result in an Excuse Plot for sex, so I took the route of not bothering :D But this takes place after Case Closed, with Blake and Jayden keeping in touch and eventually forming some sort of relationship.**

**I don't own Heavy Rain or any characters involved.**

* * *

><p>"Real fuck'n cute, Cartuh."<p>

Jayden shoved himself forward fruitlessly, trying to wiggle his wrists out of the handcuffs connected to the bedpost. Blake's bedpost, to be more exact.

Said man grinned back at the profiler. His thoughts on the matter were the same, though he'd certainly not say it to the other man. Jayden had put up a pretty good fight this time around, once he saw the handcuffs in his hand. Blake could feel the swelling under his eye begin; the cost, among a few other bruises, of stripping the little shit down to his briefs and pinning him down to his bed.

_He'll make it up to me, _he thought with a smirk as he crawled closer to the younger man. He opened his mouth to put into words these very thoughts – humiliate the brat even more – when Jayden reacted faster than he thought possible. Blake doubled over in pain as his foot connected to his stomach. His watering eyes met Jayden's, shining with victory.

"Shoulda thought've that sooner," The younger man laughed harshly. The grin on his face faded quickly as Blake returned it. With a snarl, he shoved Jayden forward so his back smashed against the wooden frame of the bed, his restrained arms twisting painfully underneath him.

"_Ow! Fuck, _Blake, I didn't hit you _that_-" his words died in his throat as Blake continued to move forward to his face. To Blake's satisfaction, a flicker of fear temporarily plastered across the kid's face as he roughly moved it beside to expose his neck. He could feel the man swallow slightly as he pressed his bearded face against his throat- could feel him shudder as his hot breath made contact with his exposed skin. Fuck, but he liked when the kid put up a fight. It made winning so much more satisfying. Made the lesson of obedience stick a little longer before he rose up futilely again.

They'd been fucking for a while now – well, more accurately, _he'd_ been fucking _him_ for a while now. Blake was always in control of the situation. It only made sense, in his eyes; he was older, more experienced, and simply physically stronger than the brat. He was sure Norman acknowledged this; yet it didn't stop him from uprising so often. Blake would think that making the kid blow him would be the ultimate lesson of who was in charge – and sometimes, it was. Yet more often than not, Blake could feel control slipping away as the younger man pleasured him to the point where he had him _begging _to not stop. Literally fucking him wasn't much better in that regard either. He certainly got the brat begging, gasping and moaning underneath him…and that just gave Blake the uncomfortable, yet almost uncontrollable urge to touch him back. Stroke his sides, nibble his ears, lick down his neck…he usually gave in and did them. The actions seemed to embarrass the agent further, which certainly spurred him on; no problem there. No, the uncomfortable part was the awful realization that he wanted to pleasure the kid.

In that specific regard, he had only given in once. He usually didn't have to, to his amusement. Jayden didn't seem to have any problem finding pleasure in the situation, despite his better wishes. But one time, during a rather exhausting one of their "sessions", Norman had met his eyes (something rare in and of itself, as he usually tried to avoid eye contact out of sheer embarrassment) with an expression that was clearly asking for more. And Blake had complied; taking his dick in hand and stroking it rather affectionately. His eyes caught Norman's for a fraction of a second; just in time to see that annoying fucking glint of victory. How in the _fuck _anyone could find control when they were getting simultaneously fucked and jacked off was beyond Blake, but this little shit had. Jayden was insufferable for days after that; never bringing it up, but smirking ever so slightly when he looked at the police lieutenant.

The stupid fucking profiler had undoubtedly labeled that action as god knows what. Blake was certainly no psychologist, but after ages of trying to find a way to get around this undeniable urge to make the kid scream without submitting to him, he had thought of one – the one thing he had never even considered doing for him. The question was simply how to go about doing it. Blake wasn't the _most_ creative of people, and certainly one for tradition. Which is why Jayden now found himself handcuffed and helpless to his bed. There was just one more thing to do before getting started.

Well, _after_ he was done nibbling his neck.

"I have work tomorrow, you fucking asshole," Norman spat as he tried to move his neck away from him. "If you…" The mention of Norman's job sealed what Blake had only been considering doing. He grabbed the other side of his neck roughly and pushed it towards his face, biting down less gently to give him a nice, throbbing and large hickey. He leaned back with a grin before returning to kiss the man's ear. Jayden shivered slightly at the rather ticklish sensation.

"Have fun explaining that tomorrow then, _Norman_," he laughed in his ear. Jayden glared at him, then watched in surprise and confusion as the older man got off the bed with a sigh, fumbling through his top drawer.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Behind the annoyance, Blake could hear a tiny bit of uncertainty. It made him smirk slightly as he continued to move aside various clothes. He stopped only to give Norman a mocking smile.

"Aw, don't worry about it, Norm. Just sit tight." He watched in satisfaction for a moment, enjoying the slight blush across his cheeks, before returning to his drawer. Blake pulled out one of his black ties and returned, resting one knee on his bed as he leaned forward. Confusion was the dominant emotion on Jayden's face now as his eyes flickered between the tie and Blake's face.

"Stay still," Blake ordered in a bored tone, knowing full well he wouldn't comply. He wasn't disappointed as the profiler jerked his head away. With a small growl, he grabbed his soft brown hair and used it to hold his head steady as the other hand covered Norman's eyes with the black cloth. Blake released his grip on his hair as he tied the tie tight around his skull.

"…the _fuck_, Blake?" Jayden asked. Confusion had left his tone, dominated again by uncertainty. Blake grabbed his face, thumb pressing against one cheek bone as his other fingers pinched the other.

"Hm. I should gag this too…" He accentuated the "this" with increased pressure on Norman's face. Shame he couldn't fully see his expression under the tie; but his body had stiffened in response to Blake's musing, which was enough for now.

"…But then I wouldn't be able to hear you moan like a whore, and that'd be a waste," He finished with a smirk, releasing his face. He watched the younger man's face (what he could see, anyway) for a response before directing his gaze at the rest of him. It had been difficult to admit, but Blake had grown very attracted to his physique. To his expectations, the kid didn't have a lot of leg or chest hair. What he had was light in color, true to his head. He was far from a body builder, but the muscles were there; just toned instead of well defined. That was fine by him; it made for a softer target to grab. He did just that as his calloused hands gripped Jayden's sides.

He had been surprised, however, at how many bruises and scars littered the kid's back and chest; though Norman had admitted to him that most were from the Origami Case alone. One particularly long, though thin, scar went from his side and curved its way to his back; he had mumbled something about a katana and Shelby. It didn't seem to amuse the kid as much as it did him, so he dropped the subject. Usually.

Blake shook himself out of that line of thinking, just as Jayden had finally mustered a response to his earlier remark. To his great pleasure, it sounded more resigned than anything else.

"…go fuck yourself, Cartuh…" he sighed, trying to wiggle himself out of his grip. Blake smiled and increased the force behind his hold, making a small squeak escape from Norman.

"Aw…now why would I go and do that when that's what you're here for?" Without waiting for a response, Blake lowered his hands to Norman's briefs. In one swift motion, he ripped them off and threw them to the side, ignoring Norman's sudden protests. He tried to give him a warning look…only to realize his errors after the fact. He chuckled slightly and settled for putting a hand back to Norman's hip to steady his fidgeting.

"Calm down, kid…" he said softly, knowing his rather harsh voice would have the exact opposite effect. "…I haven't even started yet."

His eyes fell on Norman's dick, noting with amusement that he can't have been _that_ annoyed at Blake's actions thus far. Really, despite his constant mocking of him, he was far from small. Though not quite the size or thickness of his own, Blake doubted he'd have much trouble pleasing anyone.

_Well, that's a waste, _he thought lightly as he kept his hand on Jayden's waist while moving his knees to either side of Norman, scooting down to be at a more comfortable level._Because he sure as hell isn't going to use it on me…and I'm sure as hell not going to let him use it on anyone else._

That possessive thought should have surprised Blake, but at the moment all he could think about was the task at hand. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and let his fingers lightly brush against Norman's member. Norman jumped; based on the look on his face, Blake would guess it was more from sheer surprise than pleasure just yet.

"What are you _doing_, Cartuh?" he asked, his voice slightly higher than usual.

For a minute, Blake contemplated exactly how to answer the question. This was the most important part; doing the action itself wasn't going to be hard…and he'd be lying if he said some part of him didn't want to do it. But making him see this for what it was - an effort to put him in his place – was crucial. He couldn't let Norman think this action was done out of sheer desire on his part, even if a fraction of the truth lied there. Blake wrapped his fingers around Norman in response, squeezing him softly.

"…I told you already," he responded as he began to stroke slowly up and down. Norman's breath hitched in his throat, followed by a soft moan.

"…I wanna hear you moan like a whore."

Apprehension washed across the younger man's face, and it was all Blake could do but not sigh in relief at his reaction. If he had smirked, laughed, or thrown some comment…Well, Blake hadn't even planned that far as to how he'd react. Yet Norman had reacted exactly how he had hoped; uncomfortably aroused and nervous, with a healthy dose of fear mixed in to boot.

_See? Not the only fucking expert psychologist here, Jayden. _Blake smirked slightly before returning all his efforts to the task at hand. As he increased the speed and grip of his strokes, he watched Norman's face for a reaction. He couldn't stop himself from laughing out loud; the younger man now just wore a stubborn look as he bit his lip back to stop himself from making a sound.

"Come on Norman, don't be like that," Blake laughed. " Just enjoy the moment while you can..." Norman didn't respond; whether it was out of a lack of a biting remark, or not trusting himself to open his mouth, Blake didn't know or care. All he could think of now is how to rise up to the little "challenge" he had so unknowingly given him.

_What does he do to make _me _scream? _Blake pondered this for a moment before he moved his hand down his shaft more to give himself more room for what he was about to do. He glanced up at Norman one last time – his stubborn look still remained as he took a deep breath out of his nose. Using this as motivation, Blake leaned forward and licked near the bottom of his shaft, where his hand still was gently moving up and down slightly. His tongue was pretty thick; having never done this to someone before, he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.

The action was rewarded by a sharp moan Norman apparently failed to hold back in surprise. Blake's eyes flicked up to his face; his cheeks burned with shame and arousal.

"Alright there, Norman?" he asked mockingly before returning to lick him more. He moved them forward and made them longer as he reached towards the head. There, he stopped for a moment, breathing hot air against it.

"I…_fuck_ you…_Ohhh…" _he gasped; Blake had taken full advantage when he saw Norman's mouth opening to speak to put his own over his dick. Norman moaned in a way that sounded…defeated, and Blake instinctively knew he wouldn't try to hold himself back anymore. Blake decided to reward this submission by not holding himself back either as he took most of Norman in. The rest he kept stroking, steadily picking up the pace with both of these actions as Norman continued to squirm and moan underneath him. The handcuffs he had almost forgotten about were rattling widely as the younger man desperately tried to find something to grip.

He had to admit, the kid's reactions were cute. He had noted this before, but had been so focused on his own pleasure that they had remained a second thought; a small acknowledgement at best. But now, as Blake moved his tongue over his slit, poking it in slightly while increasing the speed of his hand stroking what his mouth wasn't covering, all focus was on Norman. Blake tried to shift aside a sudden realization; he had never been so focused on pleasuring another person before. He usually didn't have to to get the reactions he wanted; whether it was all the women he slept with, or Norman, he knew what he was doing in that department.

But these instances were always mutual during sex - or sometimes before, with the intentions of loosening a nervous girl up so he could go the whole way and sleep with them. He'd fucked Norman enough times by now to know this wasn't necessary to get him into bed.

_Anymore of this fucking over analytical bullshit, and I can submit my resume to the FBI. _

As if making the agent underneath him cum would somehow be spiting the FBI, Blake redoubled his efforts, taking more of Norman into his mouth and sucking harder. Norman gasped hard and squirmed; whether to get away, or to increase his own pleasure, Blake couldn't tell. He grabbed Norman's waist harder in an authoritarian sort of way to be sure.

"G…god, Cartuh…" he barely managed between shuttering gasps. "I'm…not…I…"

Blake had a feeling he knew what the kid was getting at. He hesitated a moment before keeping himself connected to the younger man. It was either this, or get it all over his bed, or…god forbid, his fucking face. Blindfolded or not, he wouldn't given Norman that satisfaction. Norman's hips rose forward, his whole body shaking. Almost teasingly, Blake sucked down rather hard one last time, pushing him over the edge as he came hard. It didn't taste as bad as he was expecting, but he quickly removed his hand and mouth from the softening member anyway with a slight grimace.

His displeasure vanished as his eyes met Norman's face. Still gasping weakly and shaking, his normally pale face was bright red with pleasure and shame. Blake smirked as he rose his arms to undo the tie covering his eyes. Norman looked away quickly, as if too embarrassed to meet his eyes right away. When his breathing steadied, Norman licked some moisture into his lips and looked up at the older man, his gaze even more unfocused and dazed than usual. For a moment that lovely, submissive look remained, but he quickly tried to replace it with a stubborn stare.

Blake laughed, finding himself not bothered by his defiance. Really, it'd be a shame if he did actually change after that; if he was with someone constantly submitting to his glares, he'd be horribly bored. So he'd tolerate it, for now, until Norman once again reached the put where he had to be pushed down again. He reached up and pinched one of his cheeks condescendingly.

After a moment of silence, Blake put his hand down and got up with the intention of brushing his teeth and otherwise getting ready for bed. A sound of protest stopped him halfway and he looked back at its source.

"Cartuh!" Norman called irritably, his voice still a little higher than normal. "You forgot the handcuffs…"

Those pale blue eyes called for him to come back, but widened slightly when they saw the expression on Blake's face. A maniacal glint far too evil to be called merely mischievous filled them.

"...No I didn't. "

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><p>Norman eyed the sleeping giant next to him with irritation, rubbing his sore and slightly scratched wrists. He had had to fucking <em>beg <em>the dirty old cop to let him loose. Never mind that he had to drive all the way back to work in the morning…and the still throbbing spot on his neck reminded him he also had to find a way to hide _that._

Still, even full of annoyance and tired to the bone, Norman's analytical side was rearing its head. He couldn't help but try to dissect exactly what had happened. Despite both parties' wishes, something was forming between the two that neither wanted to put into words. Even now, he was laying down in Carter's _bed_ – the first few times they had slept together, he was literally kicked off the bed afterwards and left to sleep on the couch. Assuming they fucked in his bed in the first place.

But now, it didn't even seem to register in the lieutenant's mind anymore. He could shower, leave for a while, and come back and crawl into bed and the older man thought nothing of it. Or at least, didn't voice any complaints.

_Well, he didn't exactly mind touching me earlier…Wonder how far I can take this?_

Every bit of Norman's vast intelligence told him what he was about to do was suicidal, but hey, experiments were part of psychology. Throwing caution into the wind, he scooted over to Carter's sleeping form. He was facing him already, sleeping on his side with one arm by his side and the other extended above him. With some satisfaction, he noted that one of his earlier punches had landed true. The forming of a black eye was becoming evident.

_Have fun hiding THAT tomorrow then, Cartuh,_ mimicking his words from earlier in his head as he began crawling as quietly as possible to lie down on the extended arm.

Carter woke up at the motion, just as Norman feared; perhaps it was all his years on the police force, but the man was a light fucking sleeper. His still sleepy gaze took in Norman's close proximity and head resting on his arm slowly before raising his other one and absently shoving him away.

Norman tried to erase the slight disappointment off his face as quickly as possible. Judging by the mixture on amusement and annoyance on the cop's face, he doubted his success.

"…like a fucking girl," he insulted sleepily, raising the arm he had used to shove him seconds ago. Norman braced himself for another hit; yet Carter's arm kept extending beyond Norman's chest and instead made its way behind his back. With a single lurch forward, Norman felt himself being shoved towards the man instead this time. Norman's head fell on the man's arm once more as the other arm remained embracing his back. Within seconds, Carter was asleep again.

Norman grinned madly in victory as he shifted in Carter's grip to get comfortable. He was a little worried for the inevitable shit storm tomorrow morning when they woke up like this – because really, there was no way Carter would admit or even remember doing _this _ - but decided to take the man's advice from earlier, and just enjoy the moment.


	2. Craving

"_Hello?"_

"…_Hey."_

"…_Who is this?"_

"…_the fuck you think it is?"_

"…_Cartah?"_

"_Excellent deduction, Ace Detective."_

"_What do you want?"_

"'_Making sure you're still _alive. _I haven't heard from you in a month. "_

"…_That's cute, Blake. Missing my ass?"_

"_Well, in a literal sense, yeah. "_

"…"

"_Hey hey, don't fucking hang up on me!...You busy with a case or somethin'?"_

"…_Yeah. "_

"…_All right, I'll let you get back to work then, hotshot. "_

"_Wait!"_

"_What?"_

"_I'll uh…Maybe I'll stop by this weekend…I'll call you back Thursday…"_

Norman put his car into park with a sigh. As he took the keys out of the ignition, his eyes glanced over to how many miles he had accumulated since he had…"traded in" the car after his run in with Jackson Neville. The already high number made him wince. The three hour commune from D.C. to Philadelphia was a pain in the ass as it was, and now this…never mind the hole gas money burned into his wallet…He had to talk to Blake about this, see if they could work out some sort of compromise…

Norman snorted slightly and let his head rest against the steering wheel for a moment, a half amused, half annoyed grin taking his face as he pictured the idea of Lieutenant Carter Blake compromising with _anyone_ on _anything_. No, if he wanted to continue their…Norman squinted for a moment, trying to think of the best word to describe his relationship with the man. Well, whatever it was, if he wanted to continue it, Norman knew he'd be the one compromising.

He played that thought over in his head for a moment. _Did_ he? The honest answer was "yes"…Norman wouldn't have guessed, but just being around Carter was the ultimate form of stress relief. He was certainly angrier, more aggressive, when he was around the older man – but in a defensive sense instead of lashing out. He never got withdrawals when around the cop, never felt the need to put ARI on to calm himself down. Norman had been weaning himself off his dependency of both devices, and he knew he had to credit Blake for his success so far. Not that the man knew, of course. He couldn't even imagine Blake's reaction if he knew about Norman's addiction problems.

But Blake was more than just a better alternative to triptocaine and ARI – as much as he disliked admitting it even to himself, the man was just…fun. When he wasn't being a giant asshole, he was playful, joking, and…Well, fuck. The guy was great in bed. The thought made his face flash red for a moment, and he kept leaning his head down in an attempt to make the embarrassing thought go away. No, he was _not_ going to enter Carter's house horny. The cop would have a field day, teasing him and taking his time before allowing the release he craved…God, it was bad enough Norman never seemed to have the upper hand. Just because he always found himself at the man's mercy did not mean he had to start acting submissive and needy. He'd get steam rolled – or worse, make Carter lose interest in him.

That thought made his flushed face drain of color quite quickly. A shiver that had nothing to do with how cold his car was becoming with the absence of the heater took him. With another sigh, Norman pocketed his keys and opened the driver door. Before exiting the car, he caught a glance of his reflection – he knew the last month hadn't exactly been kind to him with this case, but the gaunt look on his face irritated him. Nothing he could do about it now, he supposed.

Norman made his way shivering in the Philadelphian cold to Carter's door and knocked twice. _Fuck_, he hated the weather here. At least it wasn't raining – Carter had said the raining season was over at this point, thank god. That would have been a deal breaker for sure.

"It's almost 60 degrees out, you pussy." Norman heard the gruff voice chastise as the door began to open. For a moment, Carter stood there grinning at him as he opened the screen door as well to let him in. It made Norman blink in surprise – the older man seemed…actually happy to see him.

The grin faded quickly as the light from inside illuminated Norman's face and figure. Norman fought back a sigh with difficulty – apparently, he looked a little more under the weather than he anticipated. He knew the bags under his eyes had probably grown in their absence of seeing each other…and he had probably gotten a bit skinnier, he tended to neglect meals and exercise during tough cases…and sleep…Plus, the absence of triptocaine and his best attempts to avoid using ARI over the past several weeks had taken their toll too…In short, he probably -

"Christ, Jayden, you look like shit," Carter summarized, his eyes scanning him up and down to take in his full appearance.

"Good to see you too, Cartuh." Did he sound worried? Norman filed the thought away as took off his coat and suit jacket and followed him into the man's modest living room. He took a seat on the couch, catching a glance out of the corner of his eye as its owner did the same. He _did_ look worried, Norman realized, as he found himself once again under the man's scrutinizing glare.

"Have you eaten yet?" Carter asked after a moment's uncomfortable silence. Norman hesitated before shaking his head. His appetite had been light at best as of late, and now was no different. He had a feeling this answer wouldn't satisfy the lieutenant, and wasn't disappointed as he gave an exasperated sigh.

"Fuck, kid, get up then…I'm sure I've got something to throw together. "

"I'm fine, Cartuh…" Norman protested, meeting the older man's stare with irritation. His expression softened a little before adding, "_Really_. "

Carter gave an annoyed noise of disbelief, but jerked his head in defeat slightly. Norman couldn't help but grin – it was a small victory, really, and he couldn't blame him for being worried about his appearance…but it felt nice to see the man concede on _something _for once.

His little victory celebration didn't go without notice, and Carter glared at him for a moment before smirking. Norman's grin quickly fled his face, and he found himself wanting to join it as he backed into the couch.

"…Fine," Carter said, turning to face the agent more. "I mean, if you really want to make yourself even _weaker_, be my guest. It really just makes my job easier…" Carter leaned forward until he was a few inches away from Norman, his hands shoving into his shoulders as he was pushed back into the couch's armrest. "…you know?" Norman just stared at the older man for a moment, not really struggling until he felt himself being straddled by Carter's knees. Norman shoved his shoulders forward, trying to push off Carter's arms, all while bringing up his legs to kick the cop off – until said man sat down on them, forcing them back down as he shoved his weight down.

"…Nice try," Carter smirked.

_Aw, fuck, someone learned their lesson. _Norman looked for an opening in the man's grasp, only to find absolutely nothing that would help. Even if he got his upper body loose – and fat chance of that, really, Carter's arms were fucking unyielding, to say the least – he was still pinned down quite effectively. Norman resigned himself and caught a quick glimpse at his asshole of a captor's face.

_God dammit, he has that psycho glint is his eye…Why did I come here, again? 150 miles just to get thrown around like a ragdoll…_Norman shook slightly, but to his mild disgust he knew it was out of anticipation more than apprehension. At least, until Carter's hands moved off his shoulders and pinned his arms down instead. He leaned forward more and let his head rest on his right shoulder, speaking right into his ear.

"Didja have fun hiding my mark last time?" he asked mockingly.

Norman went red with anger and embarrassment at the memory. "Wasn't hard, your aim was so terrible, my tie hid it completely," he shot back.

Carter seemed a little disappointed at this, but recovered quickly. "So, you're saying I should go higher this time?"

Norman glared at him for a moment before responding. "I don't work 'til Monday," he replied coldly.

"That an invitation?" Before Norman could respond, he felt Carter's goatee brush against his face and down to his neck. His lips brushed against the exposed skin for a moment, making Norman jerk away involuntarily. God, that fucking beard of his made him itch.

"You're gonna wake up one morning and find that thing shaved off," Norman growled, still half heartedly trying to jerk himself out of Carter's hold. He felt more than heard Carter's slight chuckle against his neck; a brief pause and small blow of hot air in between the man's gentle nibbling.

_Fuck, c'mon Norman, fight back, set some boundaries or this is gonna get ugly…_

"We don't all sleep like fuckin' rocks, _Norman_," Carter countered light heartedly. His hands left Norman's arms – though not without sending him a warning look that spoke volumes. Norman weighed his odds for a moment before deciding it just wasn't worth trying to break free. Something of his decision must have shown itself on his face, as Carter shot him a smile of mock approval before reaching down to undo his tie. He gave the cloth a good, tight squeeze, temporarily rendering Norman unable to breathe; his reaction was entirely instinctual, not even stopping to think as he put all his weight into shoving the older man off him. He fell back with a surprised grunt to the other side of the couch, some of his weight still on Norman's legs. He quickly yanked them out from underneath him, scooting away from the officer at the same time.

_...Shit. _Norman knew this was only going to end poorly. He brought his guard up, ready to lessen the blow surely coming his way from the dragon he had just poked in the eye –

"'Bout time," Carter laughed, his voice breaking Norman's thought process. His grin widened upon catching sight of Norman's undoubtedly confused expression. "What? You look fucking dead, Norm. I had to make sure there was still some fight in you. "

Norman sputtered, temporarily speechless in disbelief. "_What?_ That's not what it was lookin' like to _me, Blake_!"

"Well, failing that, Plan B was to just…take your mind off things," he finished with a smirk.

For a moment, Norman wasn't sure who he was angrier at –Carter, or himself. Did he seriously look so deadbeat from this case that he had _Lieutenant Carter Blake_ worrying about his stress level? Christ, he was probably right…he needed to relax, take his mind off work, triptocaine, and ARI for at least one evening. Still, he couldn't afford himself to look too grateful, and shot another glare at Carter for good measure. No need to give him a complex.

"…I'm gonna go take a shower," he sighed, removing the half undone tie and throwing it at the cop. He caught it with the hint of a grin on his face, nodding a little at his statement before Norman walked away.

He made his way to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, shutting the door behind him as he started the shower to let it heat up before stripping off his undershirt and pants. One quick look inside the shower told him that Carter had put away his own body wash and shampoo again – the two's tastes were far too different in that particular regard, Blake preferring to lather himself in what must have been liquefied testosterone mixed with the smell of spice. Well, there was no way he was subjecting himself to smelling like that on the long car ride home, instead opting to just buying stuff to keep here, even if the very thought made Norman embarrassed with its unfortunate implications. He shoved the thought aside as he grabbed his soap and hopped into the heated shower.

A small coo of relief escaped him as the warm water cascaded down, melting away the cold and exhaustion that filled him. After enjoying the simple pleasure the warmth gave him, he grabbed a clean rag and slathered liberal amounts of soap onto it, dragging it around his sunken frame. He was stressed, he knew that much – but he couldn't help it. He had come to rely on the way ARI simplified what would otherwise be mountains of paperwork and research. The program was entirely voluntary, however, and when he finally fessed up to his superiors about having minor…"problems" with it, they had agreed to him being dropped from the program and placed on different, better filed cases. He knew his reputation after solving the Origami Killer case aided in the process, and he was doing his damn best to remain at the standard he had set for himself. He didn't want to be a burden to the FBI by reducing his effectiveness – not one bit. Yet this was his first case completely without ARI, and it was taking its toll.

Almost absentmindedly, Norman dragged the cloth down and made sure he was clean just in case Carter did initiate something tonight. The thought embarrassed him – but at least he hadn't sunken to the point where he was initiating anything…right? Well, except for the fact that he was the one who fucking drove the entire way to his house.

Norman bit his lip, not wanting to lose the subconscious battle of reasoning he was waging against himself. True, he had drove all the way here…But Carter had been the one who called him in the first place! He grinned slightly, partly in satisfaction, and partly on the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. Really, arguing with himself like this? Shouldn't he be getting less crazy now that he was _off_ drugs?

The thought was driven out of his head as Norman heard the door open. Shit, had he been in for long? Carter usually bitched if he took too long in the shower, saying his water bill had skyrocketed ever since he came along. He squinted in discomfort, trying to make out Carter's figure through the soap he had just applied in his hair.

"What?" he asked bluntly to the blurred figure. He winced after the words came out – he hadn't meant to sound annoyed, but the stinging in his eyes hadn't quite left. A small snort from the other side of the glass told him his tone wasn't exactly appreciated.

"What do you mean _what_? It's my fucking shower. "

Norman did his best to ignore this remark and he leaned his head back to wash out the shampoo. Closing his eyes, he combed through his soft brown hair with his fingers as the soap was rinsed out. He heard the shower door open and gave a start, opening his eyes and backing away to the opposite end of the shower.

"Wha-…Hey, I was just…" Norman stumbled over his words as the man entered the shower. He quickly averted his eyes, wishing he had something to cover himself up. Of course, they'd seen each other naked before, but it was something Norman doubted he'd ever get completely comfortable with. The shower wasn't exactly spacious; there wasn't even a foot between him and the police lieutenant, making it hard to look at anything _but_ him. Norman gave him a quick up and down scan, noting with a small swallow he was already hard; the lack of space and sheer size of his dick was almost enough for it to be touching his thigh. His eyes flicked away quickly, focusing on one of Carter's hands, loosely holding a tube of lubricant.

_Aw, fuck. Subtle as a fuckin' punch to the gut…_

That was indeed a feeling akin to what Norman had; his stomach contorted from a slight fear, apprehension, and, of course…excitement. Still, his eyes quickly moved towards the shower door, absently wondering if it could serve as an escape route. Carter's arm quickly shot out, resting on the shower wall under Norman's arm as it effectively blocked his body from the glass door. Norman turned a little red, moving his head to meet Carter's eyes.

He'd been studying his face intently, the small grin still dominating his expression as he closed the distance between them. "What?" he asked plainly amused at Norman's reaction. "You'd think this would stop coming as a surprise to you. "

"Fuck you," he mumbled in a distracted way, without any real venom behind the words. "It's just…here, give me it…" He held out his hand, palm up, indicating for Carter to hand him the tube.

The expression on Carter's face was entirely unreadable to Norman. The man was impossible even for him to profile – every time he thought he could predict his actions, he'd do the exact opposite and leave Norman guessing. Like his behavior during their brief time working together, his very _being_ defied profiling, classification of any sort. It was a huge part of why Norman couldn't help but be interested in him; he never knew what was going to happen next whilst in his company. Even if said event was rarely positive in his favor.

"No…" Carter mused so low Norman had to strain to hear him. "This stuff was fucking expensive, and I spilled a lot of it on my hands when I opened it already…I'll do it. "

Carter reached his other arm forward, behind Norman, to set the tube down next to the soap. For a moment he paused, considering, most likely, how exactly this was going to work. Norman had good two or so inches on the other man; he'd have to bend down to get anything done. He couldn't help but be a little amused at the mental image this gave him – that was, at least, until he felt himself be literally picked up by the older man from beneath his thighs. His legs fluttered slightly, trying to find ground, or at least somewhere to rest. He settled for practically straddling Carter as his legs wrapped around his waist and behind his back.

"Well, look at that, another benefit from you getting even skinnier," Carter mocked with a grin. He didn't even seem strained, one arm remaining under his ass while the other settled behind his back for leverage. The former moved up slightly, causing Norman to jump in his arms.

"What, you'll let my _dick_ in there but not my finger? Calm the fuck down, Jayden ."

Norman made an irritated noise at the man's usual blunt, asshole-ish manner of speaking, but conceded nonetheless to the man's touch. Being held like a fucking kid in his arms was bad enough, but since he didn't seem to be taking _no_ for an answer, the quickest way to end this bit of humiliation seemed to be to go along with it.

Carter's _encouragement_ withstanding, Norman couldn't help but visibly tense up as his fingers brushed against his asshole. He took a deep breath – and exhaled with a shuttering gasp as one finger penetrated its way through. Carter's fingers, just like the rest of him, were thick – even with lubrication, it hurt more than a little. Norman bit his lower lip slightly, trying to ignore the pain and silently urging the cop to hurry up.

He wasn't expecting Carter to slide another finger in – the groan escaped before he could suppress it. Carter moved the two digits slower in response, spreading them out to distribute the lubricant almost gently. For an uncomfortable moment, Carter remained making little circles like that. He let himself relax a little, figuring the worst was almost over. This whole situation was weird, completely unheard of between the two. Before, Carter would just throw a tube at him and tell him to hurry up. He'd comply, quickly, without looking at him in an attempt to save face. But this - this was much more embarrassing.

Norman froze, taken completely by surprise as the man's fingers brushed against his swelled prostate. He did his best to swallow the moan that followed, yet found himself utterly unsuccessful. Shaking into Blake's grip, he fought to even his voice.

"Fuu…fuck, Blake…" he groaned slightly as he felt the fingers twist slightly to have easier access to the organ. "That should be good…You can s-stop…"

A small, dark chuckle that Norman was all too accustomed to hearing from the older man followed, making his eyes widen. "You're so trusting, Jayden," Carter chastised, his voice slightly choked with laughter.

Hearing this sent the agent into a nervous frenzy. He struggled, kicking against the man's back and shifting upward to get out of his grasp. Carter responded immediately, grabbing the back of his neck and pushing it towards him. His fingertips gently moved up and down his neck – contrasting greatly with the fingers on his other hand, which had roughly pressed down harder, the rubbing immediately ceasing to be gentle in place of a more rapid, forceful motion. It took all of Norman's self restraint to not buck onto the man's hand for more.

"…Keep struggling and I'll drop you," Carter warned. Norman stopped moving his legs and hips with a nod, making Carter laugh lightly and adjust his grip on him into one more comfortable for the both of them. His two fingers had slipped in as far as they could go, and Norman pressed down instinctively into his hand. He felt what must have been Carter's thumb gently move and stroke across his ass – Norman's face flushed even more, his moans getting sharper and less controlled.

_God, this is even worse than last time. I dunno if I'd rather have him go back to focusin' on himself or not…Can't he just…pleasure other people like a normal person…?_

Yet as Carter's fingers finally pushed him over the edge, making him buck against his hand at last and cum on the man's stomach with a shaky gasp of pleasure, Norman knew a large part of him didn't want that. Carter's no nonsense, asshole approach to him was such a startling difference for the ass kissing he normally had to give and receive in both his job and love life. Carter'd never be the lover that asked him how his day was and talked about feelings – the thought alone was laughable – but Norman knew from that rather than in spite of it that any display of affection would be genuine instead of a front. Spurred by actual feelings instead the desire to maintain a façade.

Norman felt himself be put down, though Carter didn't loosen his grip until he saw Norman was able to support his weight. With a smile that reached his eyes, Carter reached passed Norman to grab his own soap and applied it to a separate rag, washing the cum off his stomach and idly cleaning off his fingers.

"You're lucky we're in a shower, or I'dve kicked your ass."

"There wasn't exactly a lot I coulda done, Cartuh, with your fuckin' vice grip on me!"

"Yeah, yeah…" He eyed Norman for a moment, taking him in. "You alright?"

Norman nodded, the aftershocks still randomly hitting his body in a pleasant way. The question surprised him in more ways than one – Carter never inquired how he was after sex. Maybe he really _was_ the type-

"Good, I'm gonna explode if I don't get a release," he responded, pushing him against the wall before pinning his body against him.

"Wha-…Fuck, Blake, already?" Norman groaned. _So much for that._

The cop's mouth twitched upward before responding. "Hey, I didn't get _shit_ from you last time after I was so nice to you…And then you went and disappeared for a month. You _owe_ me. "

Norman was so full of objections he didn't know where to start – It wasn't _his_ fault he'd been busy... And _NICE_? He had pinned him down, handcuffed him to his bed, and-

His trail of thought broke off completely as Carter lifted him up again, this time with his thighs spread apart, one arm wrapping around each one separately before he was pushed upward and into the shower wall. It wasn't fair that the asshole was stronger than him; he really needed to work out more, it would save him so many problems in the long run…

_Christ, he isn't wasting any time, _Norman thought – immediately confirmed a moment later as he felt Carter's dick brush against him. He opened his eyes just as Carter looked up at him. The look of lust in his eyes had always been present, but this time it seemed more…intense. He didn't have time to analyze why as he felt himself be penetrated in one quick, forceful stroke.

A small cry of pain more than pleasure escaped him as he clenched his eyes shut. Fuck, but he forgot how _big_ Carter was. It was a huge difference than that of just two of his fingers. It didn't help that they'd never had sex in this kind of a position before, one that let the other man go in and out completely. Carter's initial cry was full of relief, accompanied with a small laugh. His movements were slow to start, but he picked up the pace much faster than usual, taking full advantage of the freedom the position gave, added with how well lubricated Norman was.

The initial pain of penetration vanished quite quickly. Norman's face filled with even more color as he realized his prostate was already quite enlarged with arousal and prior stimulation. His arms, previously hanging loosely at his sides, made their way up and around Carter's neck and shoulders as he sought something to hold on to. It all felt fucking incredible, and he quickly tightened himself in an effort to slow the speed of Carter's movements. Christ, if he came now, he'd never hear the end of it.

"_Fuck_, Jayden, loosen up!" Carter growled with a good deal of strain. His forehead rested against Norman's shoulder as he tried to calm down, his deep breaths hitting his shoulder blade. The thrusts had certainly lost speed, but the slow, methodical movement that replaced it was almost worse. Norman was torn between wanting the sensations to continue and the desire to save face – Carter's demand won out, and breathed in deep again as he relaxed his body. Carter wasted no time picking up speed as he continued rapidly thrusting inside of him.

It was too much stimulation too soon, and Norman found himself once again ejaculating on Carter's stomach and chest. The second orgasm in such a short time made him shudder weakly as he cried out, but he did his best to continue matching Carter's movements – even in his dazed, euphoric state, he wasn't going to let this jackass last too much longer than him –

Carter's eyes flicked over the semen on his chest to its owner, irritation thick in his voice as he laughed slightly. "I'm gonna kick your ass, Norm…well,_after_ I'm finished fucking it…"

Norman managed a strained laugh back at him. "Won't…hafta wait long then."

As Carter started to move out, Norman shoved himself back down and tightened down the best he could. He gave a grunt of sheer surprise and pleasure, thrusting back up instinctively as Norman began to feel the increasingly familiar sensation of Carter's cum filling him. Yet he continued to push himself further in, as if milking the last few moments for what they were worth.

"Awww…_fuck_, Norman…" Carter withdrew from him unsteadily, resting his undoubtedly sore arms down as he set him up on his feet again. Norman left his arms around the older man as he tried to catch his breath, leaning in to lay on his shoulder His eyes flicked up to Carter's, who gave him a warning look.

"What'd you think you're doing? Get off, queer," Carter said as he yanked Norman's arms off from his neck.

Norman couldn't have contained the fit of laughter that followed if he tried. He stumbled backwards a little, leaning against the wall again as he tried to speak in between laughing and panting. He looked up, and the perplexed and irritated look on Carter's face set him off again.

"_What?_"

"I don't think…you have the right…to that word anymore," he managed in between breathes, his eyes now falling to his own semen that lined the man's torso again. Carter followed his line of vision, gave a sigh of annoyance, and grabbed the cloth again to wipe it off under the stream of water Norman had all but forgotten about. It had long since become freezing cold – neither occupant had noticed until that moment how far the temperature had dropped in the stall.

"Laugh it up, asshole…You're payin' my water bill this month. "

Norman stopped laughing abruptly as a strangled sound of protest came out of his mouth. "Wh..._What?_ This was_ your _idea, you fucking asshole!"

Carter smirked slightly as he opened the shower door to exit the bathroom. Norman stayed in the shower a moment longer, shivering under the frigid water as he quickly washed his body one last time before turning the water off completely. When he opened the door, Blake was still standing there in the hall expectantly.

"Hungry yet?" the man asked, a towel lazily wrapped around his waist, entirely unconcerned about the water dripping down his hair onto the carpet below.

Norman opened his mouth to speak -…and as if on cue, his stomach let out a growl audible enough for even Blake to hear from several feet away. He closed his mouth, slightly abashed. Carter just grinned, however, and jerked his head to urge him to hurry up.

"C'mon, let's get your skinny ass something to eat…"


	3. Influenced

**Author's Note: Oh god, these just keep getting longer and kinkier ;_; I only ever meant to write one. I didn't waaaaant thiiiiis!**

…**Oh well. Maybe the third time's the charm?**

**(Also, I tried to make Norman's accent more pronounced in this chapter for certain...reasons. Hopefully it didn't come off too force.)**

* * *

><p>"How was work?"<p>

Carter snorted at the sight of the younger man sprawled lazily across his couch reading. It was the agent's last day staying before returning to D.C. tomorrow afternoon, and after two days with one another, Norman had stopped dressing to impress. He hadn't bothered putting anything in his normally combed, neat hair, allowing the brown curls to stick out wherever they pleased. A few strands framed his face – which, to Carter's pleasure, looked significantly more colored than when he stumbled into his home the night before last.

His suit, too, was long since taken off. The clothes he had packed were currently being washed, so Carter had _generously _loaned him a few of his own. However, Carter himself was considerably more muscular than the scrawny brat, making the plain black t-shirt loosely cling to his figure. The matching pair of black sweatpants were also quite baggy, though they rose all the way up to Norman's ankles due to their height difference. Despite his constant bitching about the weather, he hadn't even bothered with socks, his bare feet resting on the armrest of his couch.

Despite his apathetic, disheveled appearance, Carter couldn't help but feel a pang of attraction to see the man looking so…casual. Comfortable, as if he felt completely at home. The fact that it was his clothes draped on the younger man made it even worse. Like a girlfriend wearing your t-shirt after sex.

Carter fought back the urge to rip his clothes off Norman and fuck him into his couch, putting effort instead to thinking of a biting remark for his still standing question. What were they anyway, fucking married?

"Oh, it was _great,_ _honey. _I even had time to pick up the milk and eggs before coming home – 2%, right?"

To his slight disappointment, his retort was met with a grin instead of a scowl. Without even looking up from whatever he was reading, Norman nodded approvingly.

"Good, you're out of groceries."

"And whose fault is that, asshole? Glad to see you got your appetite back." Carter threw his coat at Norman, smiling slightly as it draped around his head and knocked some of the papers out of his hands.

"…And if that's a case file, I'm kicking your ass."

Ripping the coat off his head with a scowl, Norman scooped up the loose sheets and attempted to straighten them out in his lap.

"I was just…reviewin' before tomorrow…" he answered sheepishly.

Carter didn't bother answering as he made his way into his mini kitchen connected to the living room. The cold air from the refrigerator hit his face as he opened the door, noticing with a grimace that Norman was right. It was even more bare than usual, the only notable content an almost entirely empty carton of milk. Even if it was Norman's fault, he couldn't be _too_ annoyed – after all, Norman had been the one who had prepared every meal the past couple days. It was too amusing of a concept to pass up, worth having to buy groceries a week earlier than usual to see the arrogant prick cooking for him. Snatching the carton of milk up, he took a swing of the remaining liquid before tossing that too in Norman's general direction. To his disappointment, the FBI agent caught it with his free hand with a glare before setting the file down and walking towards the trash to throw it away.

"Shit, Norm. Asking me how work was…cooking my dinner…and now cleaning? You sure we ain't dating?"

The small flash of pink across Norman's cheeks contrasted with his heated glare. "…Pretty sure," he responded after a small cough, looking away.

Carter couldn't help but grin at his reaction. It was odd to even himself, but he had no problem throwing the rather homoerotic yet still snide remarks at the younger man despite being the "straighter" of the two. Before Norman had entered his life and fucked up every image he had of his sexuality in one fell swoop, Carter had never even considered sleeping with another man. If someone had told him that day in the wasteland when he first met the asshole agent that within weeks they'd be fucking every other weekend, the Philadelphian police force would have had two dead bodies to deal with on the scene. For ages, Carter tortured himself trying to explain, to reason, to _justify_ his feelings for Norman – they had started off purely sexual, but with every encounter it became less and less about physical pleasure. Once their roles has been all but secured, though the desire to dominate him always remained, the desire to please, pleasure…and _protect_ Jayden was growing stronger. From what, Carter still wasn't exactly sure, but he'd wager a guess that it was his job and, more than anything, Norman himself.

When he had woken up a month ago all but cuddling with the bastard, his immediate reaction was of utter disgust in both Norman and himself. He had shoved him aside roughly, hoping to wake him up so he could proceed to beat the shit out of him – and yet Norman had just gave a muffled moan and turned on his side without even slightly stirring out of his slumber. He hadn't been lying; Norman slept like a fucking rock.

He had lit up a cigarette with the hope that the smoke would calm his rage and possibly bother Norman enough to wake up. His face did cringe up a little in discomfort, but the former had the much stronger effect. Within moments his expression softened as he continued eyeing the little 'sleeping beauty' curled up in a ball on his bed…and he found himself giving in as he put out the dwindled cigarette with a sigh and took Norman into his arms again, this time with the man's back lying against his chest, his head lightly pressed under Carter's chin. At this, Norman did shift a little, mumbling something entirely unintelligible before snuggling back into his grip.

It was the strangest combination of emotions Carter had ever felt – discomfort, irritation, confusion, self-loathing, and…an unbearable sense of _rightness_. It was then, he decided, that whatever the fuck he felt for Norman Jayden had no way of being put into words. He couldn't label it, so he wouldn't. Whatever it was, it just _was._

"…s'not a bad idea though," Norman mumbled under his breath while rubbing his neck awkwardly, his tone low enough that Carter barely heard him. Unfortunately, he _had_, and his eyebrows shot up immediately.

"What?"

"No, no, I don't fuckin' mean…_No_. I'm just sayin…maybe we should just go out to eat tonight or something…" Norman corrected hastily, his hands moving up in an act of self-defense to illustrate his point.

"…Mm. You're payin'."

* * *

><p>Carter had never seen the kid smile so much, and when the fleeting grins had occurred, they had never been so damn shit eating as they were now. The goofy smile coupled with his curly hair and around-the-house attire just made him look…fucking adorable. It took all his fleeing self-restraint to not shove him into his garage door and give his neighbors a good show at what must have been well past midnight.<p>

Carter blinked. Adorable? No, no, that wasn't the adjective he was looking for to describe the little cocksucker…Though speaking of that, had Norman's lips always been so damn plump? He had never really felt them before, unless the times where they had been wrapped around his cock counted. Which really, he told himself, probably should.

The expression on Carter's face probably matched the fucking retarded one on Norman's right now. Technically, he had drank more, but Norman had been the exact light weight he had predicted, stumbling and laughing after just a few drinks. Admittedly, he had been the one with the good sense to call a cab, reminding Carter that Norman could just drive him back to the bar tomorrow to pick up his car before leaving.

He wasn't completely shit faced, but he was _definitely_ more drunk then he had intended on getting - when he saw Norman ordering a fucking martini at the restaurant, he dragged his ass to the bar immediately after they finished eating to expose the classy bastard to some _actual_ drinks. Of course, he had ended up ordering some drinks too, quickly draining them as Norman tried to pace himself. Carter viewed this as Norman trying to maintain some sort of control…so he naturally forced the kid to chug some more without heed to what he himself was consuming.

The results were plain as both of them struggled to perform the nigh impossible task of walking back into Carter's home. At least Jayden was having more difficulty, practically tripping over his feet until he finally fell forward. Carter caught him without any real effort, and the agent just laughed and leaned in, his arm wrapping around his neck as Carter fumbled with unlocking his door.

"…Yah can't…get it in?" he asked with a laugh, his breath rich with the smell of liquor.

Carter gave an immature snort of a laugh in response as the key finally slid it and turned, and the two literally fell into the doorway, Norman falling on top of his chest. With a small kick, Carter slammed the door closed before flipping Norman over so his back was the one digging into the doormat.

Still chuckling from Norman's earlier remark, Carter rested his hands on either side of his chest. "Don't think I'll be…havin' that probl'em tonight…" Norman gave a small yelp of protest as Carter quickly crawled on top of him.

Carter watched in fascination as Norman's lips slowly closed from making the noise. They can't have always looked so damn… kissable, right? Since they had never kissed before…But that was because, because it wasn't…sexual enough? Or rather, too intimate? Was that it?

Actually, why the fuck hadn't they before?

"…sh'uld make up for lost time…" he stuttered, ignoring the utterly confused look on Norman's face as he shot one arm under his head, bringing it up before forcing his mouth on the lips that had been driving him insane.

"_Blake_! Wha…_Mmph_-"

Carter grinned after breaking off the kiss for a moment. They were so fucking soft; he knew that from experience already, but it was also a great way of shutting his mouth for a bit too. He leaned in once more for capture those lips, and Norman moaned into his mouth before returning the motion eagerly. A familiar hardness poked against the inside of Carter's thigh, and he broke off the kiss again to look Norman in the eyes.

"'M guessin' you liked that?"

Norman got up onto his elbows, panting slightly before responding. "Right back atcha…Always knew 'yah liked my mouth, Cartah…"

Carter snorted before capturing his cheek bones with one hand, squeezing his face lightly. "Depends on what it's doin'"

"Tell 'yah what…if w'can make it to the couch, it'll do more."

With a small laugh, Carter gave Norman a quick look before getting off him quite enthusiastically. Normally, he had to put Norman in a pretty fucking good mood before he could get him to go down on him. Well, that, or he'd just fuck his mouth, but he had to admit the blowjobs were better when Norman was doing most of the work.

_Horny drunk, huh? Hafta remember that, if nothing else…_

The thought of tying down a piss drunk and incredibly horny Jayden and teasing the shit out of him endlessly only served to increase his own hardness. Fuck, he had to get over to that couch before he came in his pants.

He let out a sigh of relief as he half fell into the couch's cushion. Norman crumbled to the floor instead, scooting up to meet him. Carter leaned back into his sofa lazily, enjoying the view of Norman on his knees below him, both willing and eager to suck him off. Forget him remembering this, he hoped Jayden did moreso as the man fumbled stupidly with his zipper and begin ripping the pants off.

Though truth be told, Carter enjoyed the hesitancy and embarrassment radiating off the agent when they had sex. It made taking charge highly enjoyable, especially when the younger man finally lost that reluctance as he got closer to the edge. Still, there was something to be said for the liquid courage alcohol had provided him this time.

Carter absently kicked off his shoes and pants while Norman remained struggling with his briefs. Deciding to throw the kid a bone, and for sheer desire to feel that warm mouth around his dick, Carter aided the process in ripping them off.

"Thanks," Norman muttered, sounding familiarly embarrassed again.

Carter smirked at this for a moment before nodding in recognition. The feeling of superiority vanished immediately as he felt Norman take him in quickly. His lips were moist despite the cold outside – he realized with a grunt of pleasure as Norman's tongue ran up his shaft that some of it was probably his own spit from earlier. Christ, Jayden wasn't playing around. Usually he'd draw it out, but tonight it was clear he just wanted to cause as much pleasure as possible.

His hands shot out to grip that curly brown hair. With the absence of product it was even softer than usual, his hands easily moving through the waves as he gripped down tight on the locks for leverage.

"Mm…_Fuck_! Fuck, Norm…not allowed t-…to put shit in your hair anymore…" he managed with difficulty between the effects the pleasure and the alcohol were causing. Norman's eyes shot up to give him a coy look that nearly made Carter blow his load right then and there – he thrusted upward into the man's mouth in response.

Norman sucked down harder, his hands making their way to Carter's bare hips as if to keep him down. Rather than setting him on the defense, Carter merely gave a dark chuckle and stopped thrusting forward. The kid wanted to do all the work for him? Fine.

If Norman's mouth hadn't been encompassing his dick, Carter was been positive he'd be smirking right then. It was obvious by the glint in his eyes, one he hadn't seen since the first time Carter had given in and gave him a reach around. Normally, this would have set him off, making him shove the agent down, pulling his hair as he fucked his mouth to teach him a little lesson. He was more than a little tempted as it was, but with a deep breath he tried to relax and just let Norman do his thing.

Once Carter reached the point where he couldn't hold back the little whimpers from escaping his mouth anymore, Norman…slowed down considerably. Almost his entire length was in the kid's mouth, yet his tongue was only licking across it lightly as he sucked down far too gently. Carter let out a grunt of pleasure and irritation. It still felt great, but it just wasn't enough stimulation. Like an itch being gently brushed instead of scratched. Carter Blake wasn't a patient man, drunk or sober. He was tired of this whole "not moving" bullshit - since when did Jayden set the rules?

Knowing the orgasm wasn't far off, he increased his grip on Norman's hair before using it to shove him down on his cock all the way, thrusting in a few times to get himself back to the peak. Norman uttered a small, strangled noise before trying to break the connection between them. Carter pushed his head forward again without regard to this effort, the thrust enough to finally push him over the edge as he came down Norman's throat.

He quickly pulled out, causing small remnants of his semen to land on Norman's face as he fell back, swallowing the rest with a choke before he could manage a gasp for air. A hand rose to his throat, massaging it weakly before shooting Carter a look of hate.

"Sorry," he lied easily. "Lost control." His grin flickered slightly as Norman's glare grew stronger.

_Ahh, shit. I think I really pissed him off…_ Why he cared, Carter wasn't sure. But he couldn't deny the tiny stab of guilt Norman's expression was giving him.

"Aw, c'mon Norm, don't…get all pissy n' shit…'ll make it up to you."

Norman's head tilted slightly, making Carter wish he could take back that last bit. Shit, where the hell had that even come from? So he fucked his throat a little – sure as fuck wasn't the first time. He was getting way too soft on the guy, giving back the ground he had fought to earn. Any more giving back of what he had taken and Norman would stop being his little bitch, and become more…more like-

"R'lly?" Norman raised his eyebrows doubtfully, his voice now chaffed as well as slurred from the alcohol. He stood up very unsteadily, though Carter realized he was walking passed him.

"Where're you goin?"

"To get the taste of _you_ outta my mouth."

Carter made a little frustrated noise as he sat back down. _Prick._

Though, to be honest, he wasn't entirely sure his drunken brain knew who that comment was directed to. Norman's enthusiasm had turned him off and on at the same time. He just…wasn't used to the idea of someone else actually caring about pleasing him. And he certainly wasn't used to _him_ caring about pleasing _someone else. _Just what the fuck was he getting himself into?

Carter ran a hand through his short hair. It wasn't nearly as soft as Jayden's, too short to dig your fingers into, didn't have that cute boyish charm…

_Stop fuckin' calling him cute._

_He is, though. 'Specially the other night._

Carter's self-induced irritation peaked as he felt himself get hard again just thinking about Norman bucking into his hand. He had been eager then, too…Embarrassed, but eager. As confused as Carter was, he _did_ know he had enjoyed pleasuring Norman.

…_And you enjoy him pleasuring you. Don't over think it, remember? _

The soft shut of a door somewhere in Carter's house jerked him out of his thoughts. Christ, he had been arguing with_ himself._ This is why he shouldn't drink.

"Norm?"

Carter heard him mumble something he doubted was particularly friendly from across the house before he spoke up. "Yeah…'m in your room."

With increasingly incomprehensible mutters of his own (mostly about Norman making him walk from room to room – walking was _hard_), Carter stumbled up and towards his bedroom while slipping out of his last remaining clothing article, his shirt. One quick glance in his room before entering showed him that Norman had stripped off his clothes as well, sitting with the support of his arms on the bed rather sheepishly.

_Eager again, huh? All right…let's try'n be nice…_

Yet that wasn't exactly his forte by any stretch of the imagination. Carter was one for following instinct – and his instincts were telling him to nail Norman so hard he stuck to his bed. Something told him that probably wasn't the correct course of action considering Norman's mood, however. After mulling it around in his intoxicated head, he decided for a sort of middle ground, minimizing the usual force he'd use to push down the agent before climbing onto the bed with him. Without thinking, his lips caught Norman's again. He tasted of mint instead of alcohol this time around – it was actually kind of refreshing, and he moved in for more despite some resistance from the Washington brat.

"_Mmmph!_ Fuckin...said I didn't wanna taste you again…"

"Mm. Too bad." The little smart ass comment compelled Carter to give him another forceful kiss before briefly glancing down. The quick look revealed that despite Norman's little bitchfit, he was still hard. It made Carter grin a little as he moved one of the hands previously holding down Norman's shoulder slowly down, brushing against his chest and waist before taking the erection in hand. He traced the head lightly with this thumb before tightening his grip and stroking it.

Carter watched in amusement and arousal as Jayden tried to keep himself composed, gripping the sheets firmly while his face twisted in his effort to avoid making too much noise. He was doing a much worse job than usual, his self-control washed away by liquor.

"Uhn…Blake!" Norman panted, his tone more frustrated than anything else. "Would it kill'yah to be predictable just once?"

"Predictable?" he repeated, stopping the strokes for a moment as he leaned his head back in a confused but curious tilt. When he saw Norman opening his mouth to reply, he resumed the motions at a more rapid pace.

"F-_Fuck! _Y…yeah, can't evah tell what you're thinking…" he groaned.

Carter scratched his beard idly with his free hand. So he had an FBI investigator stumped, huh? Well, that thought did give him an entirely unneeded ego boost.

"Right now?" Carter responded lightly. "Well, I'm _thinking_ about fucking you."

To his surprise, Norman gave a shaky laugh. "Alright…but…you gotta let me try somethin'…"

Carter stiffened slightly, removing his hand from Norman's dick, who quickly scooted away. Christ, he hadn't even made the stupid promise 5 minutes ago and it was already biting him in the ass.

"…What?"

Not yet responding, Norman's face had that unfocused gaze it always wore when he was thinking hard about something. After the brief pause, the kid wordlessly gestured for him to move back against the bed frame. He complied (though certainly not without irritation), watching Norman closely in suspicion. He told himself if worse came to worst, he could just refuse, fight him off, and possibly fuck him for good measure. It wouldn't be hard – hell, it was quite possible Norman wouldn't even remember.

Once Carter's back hit the wall, Norman scratched his neck in discomfort before crawling over to join him, straddling his hips as he rested his arms on his shoulders. Carter couldn't help immediately sharing Norman's discomfort, resisting the urge to push him off.

"Alright…so…'yah can't move your hips this time."

Carter's eyes narrowed skeptically. "Yeah? And why not?"

"Christ, Cartah, I'm not askin' much! Just promise!"

With a slightly exaggerated sigh, Carter nodded in agreement. Part of him was pretty curious as to where Norman was going with this. The combination of the alcohol in his system and the admission that he had kind of crossed the line allowed him to concede some control to the less assertive man.

Carter blinked in surprise as Norman lifted his own hips, both hands gripping either shoulder for support.

"Did you already…?" He had been in the bathroom a little too long to just be brushing his teeth, he supposed.

"You think I was gonna trust you to lube me up again?"

Carter couldn't help but grin at the memory. "No, but it does mean _you _wanted to have sex."

Norman gave an irritated scoff before replying. "No, I was just…getting ready in case it did happen."

"So you could speed the process up," Carter concluded with a smirk. Norman didn't seem to have a response to that, opting instead to push Carter's shoulders back into the bed frame with a glare. Instead of getting irritated, Carter just chuckled and watched him slowly lower himself onto his dick. He closed his eyes and let out a relieved sigh as the tight ass wrapped around the head.

It stopped there, however, and Carter was about to thrust forward in desire before he remembered his little 'deal'. His eyes snapped open in irritation, wondering what was taking the prick so long to mount him.

Norman's face was screwed up in pain as he pushed down to take in the rest in one quick motion, stopping there as his arms squeezed around his shoulders in comfort.

"_Ohh_…" Carter grinned a moment at the feeling before looking back to find the same expression remaining on Norman's face. "…Wh'at's up?"

Norman looked a little surprised at the question before shaking his head lightly. "…Sorry. It always hurts a little at first…'t's a little hardah when I gotta do it. Don' worry about it," he added dryly, seeing the look on Carter's face. "It gets bettah quick…"

Norman winced as he began lifting himself up off his cock and slowly lowering himself back down. It got quicker each time, but Carter couldn't help feeling a small touch of sympathy…though, more importantly, the movements were too tortuously slow and he longed to find some way to make Norman speed up.

Carter raised his gaze to meet the other man's, holding his hands up slightly as if signaling a temporary truce. Confusion flicked across Norman's face, but he nodded lightly in consent. Carter wasted no time in grabbing Norman's hips with both hands and shoving himself up, trying to get the right angle. Norman squirmed slightly in protest, trying to push him out – it shot a wave of pleasure through Carter as he let out of a frustrated moan.

"_Fuck! _Jus…relax, okay? Trust me."

That wide grin from earlier returned to Norman's face as he laughed into Carter's shoulder for a moment. "Right. S'nevah screwed me ovah before…"

"Yeah, well-" Honestly, Carter didn't really have an argument for that annoyingly valid point. If words didn't work, he'd just have to let his actions show that he was serious this time. He started the rhythmic movements forward again, moving around inside him until he felt Norman tense up significantly with a gasp. Smirking slightly, he ceased moving but kept himself inside in the same position.

"All yours," he chuckled lightly.

Norman nodded much quicker this time as he picked up where Carter had left off. This was actually pretty nice – Norman was still slower than he was, but each time his dick brushed against his prostate, the agent would tighten up nicely and speed up. And it wasn't_ really_ as if he was giving up any control; Norman was still the one riding his fucking dick, Carter was just…letting him control the speed. That's all.

God, Norman was so fucking_ tight_ though. It didn't seem to matter how often they had sex, every time the muscles clenched around him so hard it was almost painful. No wonder he had said there was always a little pain at first.

Carter opened his eyes, but the sight of Norman bouncing up and down his cock was enough to make him quickly shut them again. There was no way he could watch – he'd be finished within seconds and he really didn't want the sensations to stop. The image was burned into his mind, however – Norman's eyes were shut too in a determined way, sweat was glistening all over his body, especially on his forehead where his hair had begun to dampen and stick to his face…

A devious solution popped into Carter's buzzed brain. Norman had only said to not move his _hips…_

Opening his eyes again, Carter's gaze settled on Norman's cock, the precum drizzling slowly down, bobbing as its owner continued moving up and down. His eyes flicked up to make sure Norman's were still closed before grabbing the length once more. He spread the liquid quickly, allowing for the movements to be much more rapid and slick.

Norman's eyes snapped open, his reaction slightly delayed as a startled, strangled moan escaped him. Carter moved his other arm behind him, pulling the man closer as he continued stroking his dick. Norman had stopped moving in his confusion, and Carter reacted by thrusting upward for encouragement more than stimulation.

"Don't stop…"

"Mm…mm-hm…" was all he could manage, pushing himself back down, his breathing lacking any sense of restraint. That always meant Norman wasn't going to last much longer, and Carter smirked in satisfaction. He released Norman's dick from his hand as he felt it spasm, the cum instead spilling all over Norman's own chest as he continued shakily riding him.

He hadn't quite anticipated Norman's ass pinching down on him so tightly, however - he felt himself following Norman as he came inside him with a growl for the second time that night.

Norman weakly slid himself off his softening member, only to fall back onto Carter's chest, still gasping. For a moment they both remained like that, trying to get their breathing back under control and occasionally shaking from pleasurable aftershocks.

After a long moment, Norman shifted slightly on top of him with a sigh.

"You're a dick," Norman mumbled into his shoulder, his voice muffled. It sounded as tired as Carter felt.

"You like it."

Norman could only laugh and shake his head halfheartedly, apparently unwilling to get off him as he made himself more comfortable lying on his chest. Strangely, Carter found himself not caring about the action, sliding off the bed frame and onto his pillow. They were both sweaty and sticky as hell, but the very idea of a shower was completely inconceivable at this point.

Carter groaned, trying to plan the next morning before he let sleep take him. Their clothes were strewed all across his house, and he was pretty damn sure he had left his house key in the lock…His car was still at that damn bar…they both had to work tomorrow, though thankfully not until the evening…Still, it was already a godforsaken hour, and he did _not _look forward to how his head would be feeling after so little sleep.

"Hey, Norm, we should probably…" Carter stopped, narrowing his eyes as he realized the fucker had _fallen asleep_ on top of him. The only thing stopping himself from throwing Norman off his bed (which would probably be the only way to wake him up, anyway) was that he was just as tired as the agent laying on him.

Carter shifted under him, pushing Norman off as he got himself situated and comfortable. The room felt far too hot for any sort of cover…but he knew from experience from the last few nights that the cold blooded little asshole next to him would unconsciously snuggle up to him within the hour for warmth…And he'd wake up cuddling him back.

_Don't think, _he reminded himself stubbornly.

Carter looked around sleepily for Norman's shirt, finding it close enough to the bed that he thankfully didn't have to get up to grab it. Eyeing the sleeping man for a moment, he found himself running a hand through his still slightly damp hair with a small smile before using the cloth to wipe off the semen on his chest. Once finished, he threw it aside and pulled Norman into a sleepy embrace. Within minutes he was fast asleep, the last fleeting thought in his head not about how chaotic tomorrow would be, or his conflicting feelings for the man he was sharing his bed with...but rather that the shirt Norman was wearing that he had just used was his.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter, so I would absolutely love some constructive criticism so I can go back and redo parts. So please review~**


	4. Gratitude

**Author's Note: I haven't even proof-read this yet (it's late and I'm lazy), so anticipate heavy editing...Also, I took the liberty of combining the endings "Innocent" and "A New Life" together because, come on, Grace is a total bitch. And Madison doesn't get enough love.**

* * *

><p><em>Dear Norman,<em>

_I'd like to thank you for sending Shaun that game for his birthday, but he hardly plays with any of his other presents! He drags it to Grace's house too though, which drives her insane…so I can't complain too much._

_I know you were too busy to come up for the party, but we'll have your head if you miss the wedding. Madison promised to use every resource she has to dig up something on you, and Shaun and I have our own ways of handling evildoers. _

_But seriously, it'd mean a lot to the three of us if you showed up. We're all doing great, by the way, thanks for asking. We ended up moving out into the suburbs since work was getting a little tough to find, but Grace is being surprisingly cooperative and Shaun adjusted very well. _

_We're all still having the nightmares, yeah, but I think moving helped. The neighborhood is much safer, for starters, and Shaun's school is full of much nicer people. It's away from a lot of pesky journalists as well. (…Please don't tell Mad I said that)_

_Mad's already mailed out the invitations for the wedding, but we'd all love to see you again if you ever get the time beforehand. _

_ Take care of yourself,_

_Ethan_

Inside the envelope the letter had been sent in was a small photo. As Norman took it in hand, he found the Mars family beaming up at him, Ethan with his arm wrapped around Madison, both of them holding a hand on Shaun's shoulders who stood in front of them. Despite the slight strain around all of their eyes, the smiles on their faces were far from fake. Norman could easily imagine the three of them laughing and hugging after the picture had been taken, could practically see Ethan grabbing Shaun and hoisting him into a piggy back ride while Madison watched with a smile.

Norman flipped the photo with a genuine smile of his own, realizing with a blink that on the back of the photo was another messy note from the head of the Mars family. This one was far smaller, yet the amount of raw emotion it contained pulled at Norman's heartstrings more than anything else in the envelope.

_Thanks for the second chance, _it read simply.

Norman sat down into the chair at his desk with an exhale full of a series of emotions, yet a grin occupied his expression stronger than anything else. Smiling was the only thing keeping him from weeping openly like a damn baby at Ethan's note. God, he was a complete sucker for this kind of sappy stuff.

Despite all the time that had passed, the Mars family didn't look too different from the last time he had saw them. Less stressed, certainly, but the stubbornly cheerful demeanor on all their expressions was the same he had seen several months ago when he had met them all for dinner once Ethan was released from prison.

It had been ages since they had last seen one another face to face, Norman realized with a stab of guilt. He had sent letters, called them a few times, even sent postcards when he was in different states for work, but they hadn't actually met in person in far too long despite him having been in Philadelphia…_many _times to date. The "culprit" in this case was fairly obvious – Carter Blake.

_Oh god, if Madison wanted to find dirt on me, that'd be it… _Actually, Norman was reasonably certain the journalist knew something about his relationship with the police lieutenant. She was tactful enough to not say anything over the phone as Ethan was always present on the other line, but she did mention Blake too often, too lightly, for her to not be suspecting something.

…_What a headline that would be. The famed FBI Agent who cracked the Origami Killer case…caught together with its head police lieutenant…Yeah, that'd help both our careers._

Color rushed to Norman's face, yet it did nothing to erase the still present smile. He wasn't seriously worried – while he wasn't extremely close to Madison, he still considered her a friend, and knew as such that she'd never publish something so lethal against him. No, she probably was just exhibiting that female intuition, someone who knew something was going on but would rather watch and tease than say anything and ruin the fun.

_Women. _The thought was mostly without venom – Norman was in far too good of a mood to put any negative feeling behind it. Besides…now that he thought about it, what he…"had" with Carter was partially her fault. Hers and Ethan's.

Norman closed his eyes, the images flowing through his mind as vividly as if he had put on ARI. It had been only a couple weeks after Ethan was released from prison. Norman had only just finished all the paperwork from the murders back in D.C. when he received the invitation from the family. After the illusion scare with ARI and the beginning of his attempts to quit triptocaine, Norman had accepted without hesitation, desperate for some human interaction and compassion.

* * *

><p>"That's you," Shaun pointed at the drawing rather unnecessarily.<p>

"'Course it is…looks just like me!" Norman grinned, bending down on one knee to properly see the picture.

"Really?" Shaun asked excitedly. "I didn't remember exactly what you looked like, so I kinda made some stuff up…"

Norman ruffled the enthusiastic child's hair fondly with a laugh. Coming down to Ethan's house had been a good idea after all – being around a kid was absolutely perfect for him. He had been craving the company of someone that wasn't full of judgement, falsified concern, or tactless questions. Norman loved kids; it was a huge part of the reason why he had immediately accepted being dispatched to the Philadelphian police force. Not only did he desire some field experience, but the very idea that a grown adult was targeting kids exclusively filled him with an almost mad dedication to see the bastard put to justice.

Seeing Shaun so pale and lifeless as he pulled him from the water filled grate had almost ruined him. Yet when life had finally returned to Shaun, it was as if the rain water was showering him with relief. For a moment, he had quite forgotten that Shelby had fled, his only concern being the boy in front of him. Norman had even managed to put aside his hatred towards one Carter Blake as he called for an ambulance and the man himself before heading off to end the streak of child murders for good.

He hadn't anticipated how permanent he'd make the stop of the murders. While Norman knew he might be called to kill another human being, (and having already shot Nathaniel in what Norman could only consider to be cold blood, not to mention watching Jackson Neville die without raising a hand) he couldn't have prepared himself for watching Scott Shelby fall into the grinder below. He had wanted justice, for the sake of the families of the victims…not vengeance.

_You tried to help him up, and he tried to kill you again. You did all you could, _Norman assured himself firmly. He shook his head slightly, returning his gaze to Shaun's illustration.

Norman was no artist himself, so he had to appreciate that Shaun could at least draw with detail. He could easily recognize himself, standing off against a much larger man in a police uniform that Norman presumed to be Scott Shelby. He himself was wearing his suit, and…ARI. Though of course, Shaun had just drawn what he thought were just sunglasses. But there was a streak line of blue radiating from the glasses, making it all the way to Shelby before turning red as if exploding.

"And that's, um…" Norman trailed off, indicating to the blue line.

"You're shooting lasers at the bad cop," Shaun explained patiently, as if Norman wasn't someone quick to catch on.

…_I'll have to tell the FBI about that idea._

Norman smiled again and nodded as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. After a moment, he drew his eyes away from the picture with a serious expression.

"I 'preciate being called a superhero, Shaun, but…You do know that there were a lot of other heroes who helped you, right? Like your dad and Madison. They worked…really hard to make sure you were found safely."

"Hard" didn't even begin to describe it. Despite not necessarily having the need to know, Norman had read through the files on both of their roles in the murders. What Ethan had to do to get more letters to Shaun's address was nothing short of horrifying. Not for the first time, Norman felt rather guilty it hadn't been Ethan himself who saved Shaun. He tried to mark it off as folly – it was evident that Ethan was just happy Shaun was _alive, _and Norman had at least tried by releasing Ethan from prison the first time_ – _but like Shelby had indicated in his rage, he couldn't help feeling that he didn't have the "right" to be the one to save him. The look of sheer desperation in Ethan's eyes when he had pounded on the glass doors at the precinct, begging Norman to save Shaun…Those were the eyes of a real hero, someone who would stop at nothing to save their son.

Madison, too, had nearly killed herself more than once in her efforts to gather information. In a way, her story was equally impressive. Norman at least had been assigned to do all the stupidly dangerous shit he had encountered – Madison was helping an utter stranger. Even if she was simultaneously chasing a story, he knew from personal experience that one just didn't dedicate themselves so hard to rescuing another person by motivation of their job alone.

The worry that their efforts were lost on the boy were completely washed away by the look of understanding on Shaun's face.

"I know," Shaun nodded. "My dad…I know nothing bad will ever happen again while he's here. And Maddie's strong, and funny too, so I know Dad will be okay…and me too." Norman gave a relieved nod in affirmation. He wasn't expecting Shaun to say any more on the subject until he pointed at the paper again, this time motioning toward another set of people Norman hadn't even noticed beforehand. He assumed the smaller figure was Shaun himself, being carried by a man wearing a shirt colored by the same blue crayon Shaun had used for ARI's laser beam. The top of his head was scribbled black; matching the small circle on the bottom that Norman realized…strongly resembled a goatee…

"And I know the police were working hard too," Shaun confirmed with a small nod. "That's the police officer that drove me to the hospital," he clarified, mistaking the look on Norman's face to be one of polite confusion. "He was really nice…And he visited me lots while I was in the hospital, too."

Norman tried to even his expression with a smile again as he accepted the drawing from Shaun, gently folding it before placing it in his wallet. He slowly followed Shaun outside his room and back downstairs to the living room, his highly stressed mind racing all the while. _…Blake likes kids too, huh? Never woulda guessed._

Though honestly, that thought shouldn't surprise him as much as it did. There was never a time in Norman's workings with the Philadelphian police force that Carter Blake _wasn't _working. Though his actions, in Norman's opinion, hindered the case more than they had helped, it didn't change the fact that the near fanatical focus Blake had on saving Shaun wasn't entirely different from his own. Blake had rejected his own approach as a waste of time that could have been spent towards looking for Shaun, and the absolutely disgusted look on his face when Norman had explained the killer's murder method confirmed his suspicion that Blake's concern was genuine, even if his methods were misguided to say the _least._

"Shaun, we're not leaving until you put a coat on!" Norman blinked as Madison's voice overrode his thoughts.

"It's not even that _cold_," Shaun protested half-heartedly, silencing himself the moment Madison's hands rose to her hips stubbornly. Without another word of protest, Shaun turned to return upstairs.

Her glare softened to a slight smile as she nodded politely to Norman. Behind her, Ethan appeared from the other room, placing a hand on her shoulder with a smile before directing his attention towards Norman.

"I hope Shaun didn't bother you too much. He was so excited to hear you were coming, I figured he wouldn't leave you alone." Norman nervously listened for resentment in his voice, immensely relieved when he sensed none.

"Nah…nah, of course not," he chuckled. "Just showin' me some pictures he drew…"

Ethan nodded seriously. "He does that a lot…He did it when his older brother…passed away a while back too." Norman winced at the pain in Ethan's voice – Ethan's file (which he steadily felt more and more he had no business reading) had everything about the car accident that had stolen his first son. Still, even behind the strain, Norman could sense there was question there.

"It's normal," he explained, keeping his tone comforting. "Kids don't know how to talk about that kinda stuff, so they express it through other means."

Ethan scratched his clean shaven face for a moment with a small frown. After a moment's thinking, however, he smiled.

"The pictures are a lot happier this time, though. Before, they were…more graphic."

"That's good," Norman said as encouragingly as possible. "Really. It'll just take time…for all of us," he added.

A mutual understanding was present without words between the three of them. Each of their experiences throughout the case had been different, yet the traumatic aftermaths were remarkably similar. They were certainly wounds only time could heal.

"So, uh…" Norman fidgeted slightly, longing to shift the mood…and ask the pair about Blake. He couldn't help but be immensely curious about the man's behavior – complete asshole as he was, he had been his partner. One that he never had the opportunity to learn anything about, due to the nature of the case they worked on, not to mention the fact that they couldn't be in one another's presence without fighting. If anything, Norman wanted to hear that Shaun had misjudged Blake's actions so he could return to viewing the man without any positive qualities – so he could go back to hating him in peace.

"Shaun told me that Car….that the police lieutenant, Blake, helped him…?"

Ethan smiled slightly at the unspoken question. "I figured that'd surprise you. I know you two didn't exactly get along-"

"What gave'yah that impression?" Norman mumbled under his breath.

"-The punch in the face tipped me off," he chuckled. "But he really was a big help to Shaun…Before, he'd have panic attacks if any police officer approached him. But he didn't have that problem with Lieutenant Blake at all. He agreed to ask everything the police needed to know, and even after they were done collecting Shaun's testimony he'd come back and visit him."

Norman shifted uncomfortably, seeking for something he could say in response. "So that's that? Ethan, he beat the _shit_ out of you! You'd be facin' trial as the Origami Killer if Blake had his way. And if you knew everything he did before that…Well, hell, just ask your therapist!"

Ethan merely listened patiently to Norman's rant. As he took a pause to breathe before continuing (really, Norman could go all night), however, he overrode him.

"Before? Actually…when I reported Shaun as missing, he tried to comfort me by saying Shaun probably just ran away and that they'd spend the night looking for him," he pointed out with a small smile.

All Norman could manage to that was an exasperated look. "…Ethan, I'm s'ahrry, but you're way too forgivin-"

It was Madison that interrupted their argument, placing a hand on Norman's shoulder. Norman shut his mouth, directing his irritated gaze at her instead. It only made her smile slightly before squeezing her grip supportively.

"Nobody's saying the guy's a saint, Jayden," she said gently. "But…we were all stressed out that week. I think we all did things under that stress that we regret now." Norman's eyes flicked towards Ethan again for a moment, noting the pained look in his face before returning his focus to Madison. She released her hold on his shoulder before playfully punching him. Before he could respond, she looked passed him to Shaun, who had returned sullenly, coat in hand. "…But enough about that damn case. I don't know about you three, but I'm_ famished_."

Norman smiled weakly before following them to the car. He wasn't bothered by what Ethan had said (because, quite frankly, in his eyes one or two good deeds did _not _pardon the rabid cop's laundry list of bad ones) so much as what Madison had. Norman had always prided himself in being the "good cop". Before the Origami case, he had never taken another man's life…And then Nathaniel Williams came along. The fluid, stabbing motions the man had made forced Norman to rely on instincts alone – something the intellectual had never done before due to his desire to know the situation completely and utterly before acting.

The results were reflected in the misguided yet utterly innocent man's eternal gaze. The ultimate price of acting while under pressure – who was to say that wasn't what moved Blake's hand as well? After 8 murders, the pressure to save a child's life must have been immense.

After the blunder, Blake had been…remarkably similar to the man Ethan had just tried to paint him out to be. Supportive, if in his own awkward, blunt way. It wasn't until long after the talk that Norman finally rationalized why the otherwise uncaring cop had been sympathetic – even if Blake hadn't actually been in danger after Nathaniel put the gun aside, Norman's hasty actions had proven to him that he'd be willing to kill to save his partner's life.

But what about the other man Norman had watched die during his investigation? Blake hadn't been around for it to be the bad cop…and Norman had taken the role into his own hands. Norman had blamed triptocaine, withdrawals, and sheer stress after having just been threatened with his fucking _life_ by Jackson Neville, but it didn't change the fact that he had threatened to shoot the man, or even _blow him up_ if he didn't comply. After hearing Madison's words, the excuse didn't hold as much water as before.

_No, no. 's totally apples to oranges…You saw that damn skull. Mad Jack would've killed you. Ethan's therapist wasn't exactly holding Blake at gunpoint before he got the shit beaten out of him._

That was certainly the case…but what about the guard at the Blue Lagoon? After Shelby had nearly broke his neck, Jayden was hurled into another state of drug aided fear and anger. Hearing the guard dryly refuse to cooperate with him sent him over the edge – despite his previous lectures against violence, the bouncer quickly found himself shoved against the wall in the moment of heated rage. Luckily for the both of them, he had complied. Norman honestly didn't know what he would have done otherwise, and that scared him more than anything else.

He could blame triptocaine all he wanted, and the argument was certainly valid. But it merely explained his actions, doing absolutely nothing to justify them. Not to mention…Blake was quite right that Norman had very little field experience. No doubt Blake probably had more self-restraint when he started being a cop god knows how many years ago. How long before Norman himself went apeshit on anyone that refused to spill their story immediately? Could he honestly say he had the moral high ground?

…Was he really _that _different from Carter Blake?

* * *

><p>"…so after all that, courtesy of <em>Captain<em> Perry, it's nearly impossible for Ethan to get work around here," Madison finished with a sigh. All but finished with her plate, she set her fork down and gave Norman an irritated stare. He managed a sympathetic smile back at her.

"Is moving out of the question? I bet a new home would be good for all of you…Someplace a little quieter, with less prying eyes."

"Not until Champ finishes the school year," Ethan answered, ruffling the hair of his son affectionately. "I don't want to pull him out of school halfway."

"_I_ want you to," Shaun mumbled after swatting his dad's arm away. "I hate my school."

"No, you hate school."

"Same thing."

Norman watched the argument silently, amusement twinkling in his eyes. It was quite surprising that Shaun had immediately returned to school after leaving the hospital – He would have expected the boy to be too traumatized to return so quickly, yet Shaun had complied and even caught up with all of his schoolwork to boot. It was more than a little impressive for someone his age, even if he did express an adamant dislike for school like all kids.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Shaun announced after the slight pause. "Don't leave without me."

"Ahh, you saw right through our plan of leaving you with the check," Madison joked. Shaun glared back at her, though Norman spotted a small smile before he completely turned around and walked away.

"…He's okay with school, then?" Norman broke the silence after a moment.

"As good as he can be. Kids can't help but be curious about it…and adults even more so," Ethan added with a grimace. "I bet a new school is just what he needs."

"…But enough about us, Mr. FBI. How have _you_ been?" Madison inquired with a smile.

Norman choked on his water, setting the glass down unsteadily as he felt the curious gaze of the couple on him. "Nothin' new to report…" he gasped.

"That hasn't already been said on _Let's Talk Tonight_?" she replied, openly grinning now.

"Oh, Christ…" Norman ran a hand through his hair, feeling his cheeks warm considerably. "You watched that?"

"Us and the rest of the nation," Ethan replied, joining Madison's teasing.

"God, I wish they hadn't aired that…I hate interviews," he groaned. "Can't evah talk without getting tongue tied…"

It was perfectly true, but the interview had been even worse as Norman had already begun reducing his Triptocaine intake at that point, making his speech even more slurred and his body shake more out of withdrawal than actual nerves. Which wasn't to say he _hadn't_ been nervous – talking about himself was one of Norman's least favorite things. Try as he did to avoid any interview after the Origami case, his superiors felt it would be good publicity to attend at least a few. The public was weary from all the deaths, and seeing a young "hero" share his story was just what they needed.

If it had been just a display of the facts, or a brief rundown on how he had solved it, things wouldn't have been too bad. He certainly had no problem in meetings or debriefs. But he couldn't exactly talk about the case entirely without discussing ARI, which was still in the experimental stages and thus hadn't been disclosed publically yet. The public didn't want to hear about it anyway – they wanted to learn about _him._ And they certainly had learned that the alleged hero of the Origami Killer case was a shy, slightly awkward young man...to say the least.

The reporter seemed to find his lack of public speaking skills _hilarious _as she doubled over on the table laughing. Bringing her hand to cover her mouth, Ethan spared her from having to speak.

"It wasn't that bad…It made you look more human?" Ethan suggested, trying yet failing to remove the smile from his face.

"…Y'ere too kind. Really," Norman replied dryly. More to spare himself from having to say more, Norman reached out to take another sip of water. As the glass made to his lips, however, his grip failed him as the beginning stages of withdrawal began. He managed to catch the glass from falling completely, yet not without spilling its contents all over his hands and lap. Ethan and Madison's smiles faded, a worried look replacing them instantaneously.

_Shit, fuck, no…Not in front of these two…_

"Are you all right…?"

"Shit, I'm sorry, Norman…We didn't mean to offend you, I shouldn't have brought it up..."

Their voices faded in and out of his head – he barely managed to catch half of what they said as their faces, too, turned into a blur.

_No, no, no! Stay with it…_

There was simply no way he could pass out in front of the two. He knew he could never escape having to go to the hospital after all they'd been through. God, if they found out about his drug addiction, they'd leave him in disgust…or worse, try to seek him help. The FBI would fire him for drawing attention to their drug – or (more likely, considering the publicity around him as of late) simply buy out their silence and cover the whole thing up. No matter what, he'd lose the closest thing he had in years to having friends…

"Dad!"

Shaun's voice slurred in Norman's ailing brain, bringing him slightly back into reality. What would Shaun think if he knew the man he considered his hero was a drug addict? He didn't deserve that, not after all he'd already been through…

"Look who I ran into!"

Norman raised his head to look at a blurred figure behind Shaun. Hiding his shaking hands under the table, he shook his head and squinted. Why did he look so familiar? He didn't know anyone in Pennsylvania…

"…Holdin'up okay, Mars?"

The figure's voice _sounded _oddly familiar too. Fucking tritpo, if he wasn't going through withdrawals he was sure he could place the name…

"Thanks to your boss, not really," came Ethan's reply, laced with amusement to show he wasn't angry.

"Why don't you take a seat? We were just about to order dessert and drinks," Madison offered. The lighting in the restaurant made it impossible to see anything except bright blurs now.

"Oh, uh…I don't…"

"Come on, Mr. Blake! I'm sure Mr. Jayden will be happy too!"

Carter Blake's form came into vision with clarity as he gave a start, stepping back with an expression of utter surprise as he met Norman's unfocused eyes. His mouth opened slightly in shock before twisting into a horrible grin. Norman felt his stomach drop out as the feelings of withdrawals fled, wishing desperately he could join them as the absolute last man in the entire world he wanted to see sat down across from him.

"Well, well…Agent _Norman _Jayden. What brings you back? Here for another…articulate interview?" The grin deepened mockingly as the lieutenant adjusted into a more comfortable position in the seat.

"Fu-uuuh…" Norman broke off the word with a cough, his eyes following Shaun back to his seat.

"…No, Lieutenant, Norman's here on our invitation," Madison chimed in, rescuing Norman from having to reply.

"…Of course." Blake replied loosely, taking a quick swing out of a beer bottle Norman only now noticed he had been carrying. He still felt completely out of it, his hands shaking with increased tremor under the table even while his vision cleared.

_You think it'd be bad if Madison or Ethan saw you? What if this asshole did?_

"I, um…If you'll excuse me for a second…I think I just need some fresh air," Norman explained lamely as he stood up a little too quickly. Madison and Ethan shared a slightly confused look before nodding. He tried to avoid looking at Blake entirely as he walked away, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket as he made his way to the back parking lot.

Norman immediately lamented his decision to go outside instead of going to restroom as the cold Philadelphian air bit at his exposed face. It did nothing to reduce his shaking, but he couldn't just walk back inside – he'd have to pass their table again on the way in.

Resigning himself to the cold, Norman sighed and leaned against the building. At least it wasn't raining, though it was late enough in the evening for the sun to have completely disappeared anyway. He absently wondered what the state would be like if he had come here during a warmer season – it might have even been pretty.

_Ugh…Cold. Withdrawals. And fucking Carter Blake. Everything I missed about this damn state._

The small flick of a lighter being used followed by a wave of warm smoke made Norman lean off the wall that had been all but supporting his weakened state in order to look back at the restaurant's exit doors. He didn't see anyone…

_Great. Maybe I'll get mugged too in this abandoned parking lot._

He turned with a sigh…and found himself face to face with Carter Blake once more, the beer in his hand hanging just as loosely as the cigarette dangling from his lips. They curved up slightly in amusement as Norman jumped back into the wall in surprise. For a moment the older man just looked at him huddled against the brick building silently.

"…What do you want?" Norman asked finally in annoyance.

Blake snorted slightly, taking a drag from his cigarette before glaring back at him with an exhale of smoke. "A quiet place to smoke. Contrary to what the media's been saying, not everything's about _you_, hotshot."

Norman met his irritated gaze with a stubborn one of his own. "Right, because that's my fault. I don't know if you noticed_, Blake_, but I don't exactly welcome the attention…"

This made the cop give a small snort of laughter, exhaling in small puffs as a result. "…I did, actually. And I thought your accent was annoying in _person_."

Norman's face heated up again in embarrassment as well as anger. "Fuck off, Blake."

Blake just gave him a lazy look in response before answering. "Uh huh…least there's no kids around this time. Nice influence."

"…Never had you painted as a guy that likes kids," he shot back. Blake chuckled, apparently not bothered to answer as he flicked his finger slightly to rid the cigarette of excess ash before taking another puff. He didn't sound particularly irritated, however– actually, Blake seemed rather…relaxed. It contrasted greatly with the man he had been acquainted with just weeks ago, even if he was still making comments at Norman's expense. It was curious, and Norman was never one to let curiosities fester.

"I didn't know you took Shaun to the hospital eithah…" he continued, fishing for a reply.

"Yeah, well, you didn't exactly stick around to find out, did you?" Far from sounding offended, Blake seemed quite relieved about this. The implication that Blake wasn't sorry to see him go far from offended Norman either. A simple shared glance assured them both that the feeling was understood as mutual.

Still, Norman was rather surprised the incompetent cop hadn't reacted to seeing him defensively, or at least with outward hostility. He figured the fact that he had been the one who was right all along would have hurt the man's pride at least a little. Perhaps it was just relief that the case was finally over, without regards to the 'how'?

Blake appeared to be lost in thought about something as well, scratching his face absentmindedly before throwing the dwindled cigarette to the ground and rubbing it out with a swipe of his shoe. His gaze lingered from the charred mark on the ground before raising it to meet Norman.

"…Gary got your call and passed the message immediately. Said you called for me personally. Why's it so surprising I took the kid?"

"I was more surprised that you kept visiting him, actually," Norman replied with a small smirk of his own, daring the officer to admit he had some sort of a soft side.

An annoyed glint shone from Blake's face before he responded with a grunt. "And I'm surprised you even bothered calling for me. You didn't bother to tell me about where Shaun was being held or who the Origami Killer was before you left without a god damn word. Knew I should've had you followed…"

That comment took him off guard for only a moment before the reply naturally flew from his lips. "Had me followed? Why didn't you just take the normal, rational route and…I don't know…fucking _talked _to me?"

"Like you did with your little lead on Mad Jack? How'd that work out for you, Jayden?"

Norman could practically _feel_ his blood beginning to boil as his blood pressure hiked up. Carter had hit a nerve – the report Norman had left was certainly detailed…in the sense that he had admitted to the deranged lunatic dying in front of him after getting his pant leg stuck in machinery. The only detail he had left out was his loss of consciousness being triptocaine's fault instead of Jackson Neville himself.

"Hey, no shame in what you did, Norman. I'd have watched him die without lifting a finger too." Carter's tone was far too light, leading Norman to believe the man knew _exactly_ what he was implying with that statement. The stress his words were causing happily joined the withdrawals in making Norman feel like absolute shit.

"That's _not_ how it happened, Blake," he practically hissed, his teeth grinding together in vain to hold back far harsher comments.

"Yeah? Well, lemme replace "Jack" with "Shelby" and try that again," Blake smirked.

His vision was getting spotty once more as Blake's smug face flickered in and out of view. Doing his very best to stay conscious, Norman planted his feet firmer into the ground, staring daggers into the complete asshole in front of him.

"I'm sure you read it in the damn report, Blake. The first time he almost slipped into the grinder he begged for help up…and then he attacked me again. I tried to save him."

Blake gave him a long, calculating stare before slowly moving forward to get into his face. The blue in his eyes was far colder than anything Pennsylvania was capable of producing, and Norman knew instantly that in his next words, he was going in for the kill.

"Was that what you were trying to do with me when you shot Williams?"

And there it was – finally, the most raw, sensitive nerve that Blake knew exactly how to strike. The stress from media attention, pressure to quit ARI, the absence of triptocaine, withdrawals, and his musing from earlier about his own morals all seemed to crash down on Norman at once as he snapped once and for all. Without even considering the consequences of his actions, much less pausing to aim, Norman found himself panting as he doubled forward, a stinging pain shooting into his hand. It took him several seconds to realize he had just punched Carter Blake in the face for the second time in his life.

Blake, too, seemed to need a moment to process exactly what happened. He raised his head simultaneously with his hand as he brushed it against his face, wiping the blood that had begun streaming down his face from his nose. He stared at the blood dripping off his fingers for a moment before looking back at Norman. The horrible smile from earlier returned, full force.

"So…you wanna play, Norm?" the monster asked lightly. He paused before setting his beer against the wall. The movement was agonizingly slow, as if Blake had all the time in the world.

Tilting his head slightly, Blake took a few steps forward. Instinctively, Norman moved back. The realization at what he had just done made his head throb, his heart pounding just as harshly against his chest. Complete fear made Norman's throat tighten, rendering speech impossible. Unable to utter a word of apology, he watched rather helplessly as Blake approached.

…_What the fuck did I ju-_

Before the thought had a hope of being finished, Norman found himself flat on his ass. The whole world seemed to be spinning around him uncontrollably – Triptocaine was entirely incapable of throwing a sensation as overwhelming as this. It had to be some sort of divine miracle that Norman hadn't heaved up everything he had ever consumed when Blake's fist made contact with his stomach.

Between the tears of pain and his unfocused vision, he could just barely make out Blake walking back towards the restaurant. The smart thing to do was to just let him go; he knew a fight with Carter Blake held only one outcome, that he had absolutely no chance in beating the man in a fair fight. _Especially_ in his weakened state as his body desperately tried to cleanse itself of drugs.

But right then, Norman didn't want to be smart. He didn't want to be the man that Shaun admired, that Ethan was grateful to, that Madison worried about, that the FBI relied on, that the American people loved. The only thing he wanted was to be free of all his expectations as he beat the everlasting shit out of the man that spat on all those labels.

Blake had only taken a couple steps before Norman threw all his weight into kicking the back of his knees out. He stumbled, falling over as Norman lunged forward and shoved him to the ground by his waist. With a snarl, Blake pulled his elbow back before driving it towards Norman's face. It just barely avoided making contact with his eye, smashing only slightly below it.

In the pain and confusion, Norman wasn't entirely sure how many of his blows were received and how many he took in turn. He was quite certain Blake was making contact far more, but at the very least he could say he got his fair share of strikes in. Eventually, however, he found himself on his stomach, face first into the concrete below as he felt Blake shift off of him and stumble away. Too weak to stand, Norman clenched his eyes shut and waited for the inevitable final blow that would finally take his consciousness away.

…Yet it never came. In its place was the unmistakable sound of Blake…laughing. Not the cruel chuckle or the sarcastic laugh he had heard earlier at his own expense, but a genuine, sincere laugh that confused the shit out of him.

He rolled over onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows just in time to see Blake returning with his beer in hand. Despite being dangerously close to drifting off, Norman's vision was actually steadily improving as Blake grinned down at him before half-falling down next to him. His face was quite the mess, blood steadily flowing from his nose and mixing with the same liquid dripping from a gash directly below his left eye.

"...Not bad, kid…Not bad." His voice was still rich with laughter as he took a swing of his beer before handing it to Norman. Unable to count the reasons for his bewilderment, Norman accepted the bottle and took a drink before returning it.

"…We shoulda done that sooner. Might've made the investigation go smoother, y'know?" Blake grinned.

Strangely, Norman found himself…agreeing to the cop's words with a nod. An unbelievable sense of calm was washing over him as his adrenaline levels went down. Somehow, he felt as if that fight had put into words the insecurities he had been feeling about his own methods as of late…while simultaneously helping him understand the insecurities plaguing _Blake_ about him not solving the case.

Though he couldn't see how he himself faired after their skirmish, Norman was absolutely certain he looked a shitload worse than Blake. The blood was certainly flowing more freely from his own face onto his clothes. He winced as the red liquid clearly stood out against his jacket.

"…the fuck am I gonna tell them?" he asked with an unsteady grin of his own. Blake flashed him an amused look, his gaze browsing over his increasingly stained front to his bloodied face.

"Give me your wallet. We can tell them you got mugged." Without waiting for a reply, Blake set his drink down and practically attacked him again as he dug into his front pockets.

"_Ow-_ Fuck you, Blake, you're not taking my damn wallet-" The cop ignored him, one hand steadily holding him back by his face as he slipped a small card into the wallet before throwing it back with a smirk.

Norman snatched it back with an annoyed look before opening it. Inside, he was surprised to find Blake's business card, his number and address neatly typed in the center under his name.

"You figure it out then, FBI. That's your job, isn't it?" Blake rose to his feet rather unsteadily, eyeing Norman for once from above before giving him one last smirk as he turned to walk away.

"Blake…" Yet Norman found himself completely without words as the enigma of a man turned to face him expectantly. Norman wasn't surprised he had no idea what to say – hell, he had no idea what to _feel _at this moment.

But that, Norman reminded himself, wasn't all that different than how he felt before the fight. He didn't use words then – he hadn't needed them to communicate his emotions, letting his fists doing the talking as Blake "replied" in the same form. Perhaps this was just another time where words were unnecessary to convey a mutual understanding.

"…I'll see you 'round," he finished, returning his smirk as Blake nodded, giving an absent wave without turning back.

* * *

><p>What had followed was a mess, of course. He ended up going with the mugging story after all. Ethan and Madison hadn't bought it for a second, of course, but Shaun just seemed to gain <em>more<em> respect towards him. Thankfully, no one had pushed the subject.

Norman glanced down at the photograph once more, resolving that the next time they met up (which would be the next time he drove up to Pennsylvania for sure – Carter could wait, a little lesson of patience would do him some good) he'd tell them the truth of what actually happened that night. But not before accessing the FBI database for anything he could counter-blackmail Madison with.

As for Carter…well, their relationship was the epitome of communication without saying a word. The only thing that had changed from that point was the…_form _of communication.

Grinning slightly as a small blush overtook him again, Norman flipped the photo in his fingers once more so the text was visible.

_No, Mr. Mars…Thank __**you**__._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the complete lack of sex, but I wanted their "reunion" to feel natural and in character. And speaking of in character...I hope I didn't come across as someone who thinks Blake is a nice guy. He's not. But I don't think he's a complete monster either. He had to have wanted to save those kids, or I don't think he'd have acted how he did. **

**...And I also don't think Norman is a complete saint. This mostly steams from the fact that I picked all the "Aggressive" options my first playthrough, but Norman does canonicaly threaten to kill Mad Jack and does shove the bouncer at the Blue Lagoon. Poor guy. Drugs are bad, Norm :(**


	5. Open Minded

**Author's Note: Okay, let me try to justify my massive amount of updates lately…I do have a job! I've just been in a limbo transfer stage the past two weeks that unfortunately just ended. So as much as I've enjoyed dicking around and getting paid for it, those times are over and I have to actually start working again :( But enough about that.**

**I really appreciate everyone's kind reviews! Though I do feel the need to add that I really don't have a central plot line…When I think of an idea for an amusing (to me, anyway) event between the two, I write it. Pretty much the only reason these short stories have any continuity is because I allow wiggle room in most chapters for more. That's pretty much the long and short of it, so I wouldn't hold my breath expecting a riveting story line any time soon…And if I ever just stop updating, it's because I ran out of ideas, haha. I try to end each chapter ambiguously enough that each one could be the end in case that does happen. I'm glad you all enjoy them anyway~!**

**Added warning for possibly offensive language in this chapter. And don't worry…this time, there's smut.**

* * *

><p>"…bullet to the right shoulder…"<p>

"…went straight to surgery…"

"…on a lot of pain medication…"

The voices were slurred and nigh unintelligible, yet the sound of them echoed in Carter's head painfully. Pain, though mostly numbed and without strength, was still shooting through his nerves, pounding at his head and seemingly stabbing him in the shoulder. With a groan, he tried to open his eyes.

His blurred vision could only just make out the figures of a man and woman at the foot of what he presumed to be a hospital bed. It had to be – the walls were a blinding white and the lighting was far too bright. Carter blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision, the two figures slowly becoming more recognizable.

The woman he barely recognized. Carter remembered her from somewhere – judging by her scrubs, she must be his nurse. Though she was still blurry in his eyes, he distinctively remembered her being attractive. Her blonde hair was thrown up in a messy pony tail, strands sticking out from the back and sides of her head. The uniform, of course, did little to compliment her figure, but her face was slender and pretty.

_Ahh, well, if I gotta be here, might as well have something to look at._

Why was he here again? The last thing he could clearly recall was examining a crime scene with Ash. The report said it was another gang skirmish. Most of the senior members had fled, but some junior rookies were presumed to still be inside. Everything after their initial entry was a complete blank until he found himself waking up in the hospital, only to be knocked out again via anesthetics.

Carter turned his gaze to the man. His back was facing him, though even drugged and shot he'd recognize that damn pretty boy hair anywhere…How the hell did Jayden get here so fast?

"So he's gonna be ah'kay?" Carter wanted to get up and strangle him with his own tie for the amount of worry his voice so poorly concealed. He was _fine _– something as minor as a bullet couldn't stop him.

"We're expecting a full recovery," the nurse answered clearly with a smile. _Damn right. _The nurse looked past Norman to him, blinking in evident surprise.

"Oh, wow, he's awake already? I'll bring the doctor…try to keep him up, will you?" She left without another word, putting her clipboard under her arm before leaving in a slight jog. Norman watched her a moment before turning to face him. His face was paler than usual, eyes squinted slightly in stress.

Carter's own thoughts were becoming increasingly without coherence as Norman closed the distance between them, stopping on the side of his bed with a slightly forced smile.

"Feelin' okay?"

What kind of stupid ass question was that? Yeah, fine, minus the bullet through his shoulder. And the fact that the nurse had left.

"…You know, Norman…'d rather wake up to a hot woman worryin' over me…"

His intention was to offend the man, but Norman only grinned slightly at his words. God, he worried as much as a fucking woman. And he twisted and analyzed every little action he made like one, too. Why couldn't he have been born one, then? It'd make his feelings for the agent much easier to rationalize…Plus, he missed tits.

"…'know…you'd be perfect if you had boobs, Norm…" The absolutely incredulous look on the man's face set Carter into a fit of laughter, his whole body shaking before he cried out of in pain from the motions.

"…I think they gave you too much morphine, Cartah." Norman pushed him gently back onto his bed, purposefully avoiding the bandages wrapped around his shoulder all the while. The moment his head hit the pillows, the wonderful idea of going back to sleep popped into his brain. Immediately, he closed his eyes.

"Hey, hey, don't do that…!" Norman whined, lightly hitting his face. "You're gonna get me in trouble…"

Hearing that made Carter smile in satisfaction. He tried to tell Norman he hoped so, but the words came out slurred and indistinguishable as the world began spinning once more. He opened his eyes one last time to see Norman's concerned face swirling around him before sweet darkness took him.

* * *

><p>"Oh, <em>come on<em>!"

The voice that woke Carter this time was neither the feminine voice of the nurse, nor the slightly deeper one of Norman's. It sounded instead like a young child. It was accompanied with the tapping sound of buttons being pressed repeatedly with a little too much force, small explosion noises following every tap.

Propping himself onto his pillow with his elbows, Carter opened his eyes slowly to allow them to adjust to the light. After a few blinks, he spotted a little boy seated in the chair across the room in the corner, playing a handheld game.

"Shaun?" Carter asked incredulously. The boy looked up immediately with a bright smile on his face. He shut the game and jumped out of his chair before running to his bed.

"Mr. Blake, you're awake!" Shaun reached out and pulled him into a hug – Carter couldn't help returning it with a pat from his good arm. Norman had been right, the little prick…Carter loved kids. It mostly stemmed from the fact that the often annoying little creatures liked _him_. Since he couldn't shove them away or yell at them like adults without horrible feelings of guilt, he had developed a sort of patience for them unseen in their older counterparts.

"What're doing here, kid?" he asked, ruffling his hair before he propped a pillow behind him to rest his back against the bed frame. He was rather flattered to see the boy after all this time – the situation had certainly reversed.

"Mr. Jayden's housesitting since Dad went with Maddie to meet her parents…I had to stay since school isn't out yet," he huffed irritably. "Mom's working, so he's watching me 'til she gets off."

"That so…Where's that assh….aaaagent, at, anyway?" he recovered quickly. _Shit, time to turn the filter on…_

"Umm…" Shaun paused for a moment, considering. "I think he got a call from work. He told me to call the nurse if you woke up." With that, Shaun hopped off his bed and went to hit the nurse button.

"No no no, don't…" Carter sighed when he realized it was too late. He was tired of sleeping at this point, and didn't particularly look forward to someone lecturing him about his health.

_Ahh, wait, that nurse from earlier was nice though. Wonder what she looks like with some actually flattering clothes on?_ Carter fantasized whimsically. _Can't really make a move with Norman around though…_

Carter stopped dead in his tracks, a small amount of heat rushing to his face. _Wait, what the fuck am I thinking? We're not fucking dating. I can do whatever the hell I want._

That line of thinking, however, rose up the thought of what he himself would do if Norman slept with anyone else. If it was a guy…well, he'd beat the everlasting_ shit_ out of him, first of all…and then give Norman a little 'reminder' of who he belonged to.

What if it was a woman, though? In all honesty, the thought of Norman with a _girl _was laughable. Indeed, he did grin a little as he shifted slightly in the bed. He had never actually asked him what his orientation was…All he knew was that it couldn't possibly be "straight", which was enough for him.

Maybe he could talk Norman into the idea of getting with a girl? The idea of a threesome with Jayden and some hot, young girl made the pain slowly returning to his shoulder quite forgettable as the grin on his face widened. It might not be too hard to convince him…and after playing around with the girl, he could reward Jayden by putting him into his lap and fucking him while the girl sucked him off…Yeah, that'd be _nice_…

"Hey, Mr. Blake, could you get me past this level?" Shaun cheerfully asked as he returned to his side, game in hand.

_Holy __**SHIT**__ I forgot he was in here. Oh god…clean thoughts, you fucking idiot, clean thoughts._

Carter quickly grabbed the pillow from behind him to cover his lap, coughing lightly in an attempt to disburse his thoughts.

"Uh…I'm not too good with games, kid…" he replied sheepishly, face still slightly red.

"Really?" Shaun asked in slight surprise, completely oblivious to Carter's current state. "I thought you'd be great…Mr. Jayden's really good, I can't ever beat his high scores," he added with another bothered sigh.

_Ha, I fucking knew it…Jayden's a damn nerd. Him and those space goggles of his…whatever happened to those, anyway?_

"That doesn't surprise me," Carter laughed. "Don't dedicate yourself to beating him, you don't want to grow up like _Mister _Jayden. Games are for geeks."

Shaun glared at him, drawing his eyes away from the screen. Seconds after doing so, a dying cry echoed out of the system, making Shaun swear loudly.

Carter's eyebrows shot up at that. "Watch your mouth, kid, you're too young to be talkin' like that…Where'd you even _learn _those words?"

"Mr. Jayden…" he mumbled distractedly as he presumably restarted the level. Immediately, a flash of guilt appeared on his face for ratting out his role model. "I mean…um…"

"_Really_ now…" Carter trailed off, his voice heavy with amusement. "Well, me and him'll be having a talk, then."

A small amount of panic filled Shaun's face now. "Don't be mean to him…"

"I'm never mean to Jayden," Carter lied easily.

"That's not what _he_ says," Shaun replied doubtfully. "He said you're a bully to him."

_Mr. Jayden's going to get the shit teased out of him later, I assure you._

Before he could muster up a PG rated reply, the door opened to reveal a much less attractive nurse than the one from earlier. _So much for that threesome…_

Her face was considerably sterner as well as she regarded Shaun's presence with a silent coldness. Carter rose defensively to illustrate he was fine so Shaun could remain in the room without her bitching…failing miserably as the sudden movement made him groan in pain and fall back.

"Visiting hours are almost over, dear. Where are your parents anyway?" the nurse sighed.

Shaun shut his game with a glare before looking at pleadingly Carter for support. _Probably still a little scared of people…_He sighed slightly before shaking his head. "They're not here, an FBI agent is keeping an eye on him…Norman Jayden, probably in the lobby."

The nurse's eyebrows rose. "Not doing a very good job of it, I see."

Normally, Carter would've jump on the opportunity to make fun of Jayden in any field, but the woman's attitude was pissing him off a little more. Plus, he rather wanted Shaun to stay. It was surprisingly good to see the brat again.

As if on cue, the door opened once more, this time revealing the allegedly poor babysitter himself. "Shaun? Your mom's waiting in the lobby for you…" Norman said before properly looking at the rest of the room. He blinked slightly in surprise at seeing Carter awake before his eyes settled on the nurse.

"I'm afraid you'll have to leave too, Mr. Jayden. Mr. Blake's wound has to be redressed, and if he wants to leave anytime soon, he'll need to rest." Looking slightly put out, Norman nodded to her before she left the room to retrieve said dressing.

"Sorry, Blake. I'll be back tomorrow…"

"I can hardly wait," he replied dryly. "How about you, kid?"

Shaun's face fell sadly as he shook his head. "Probably not…Mom doesn't work tomorrow. But I'll visit you again when my dad comes home, okay?" Shaun smiled at him, the innocent action highly contagious as Carter felt himself smiling back.

"Sure…" Shaun reached out to give him a quick hug goodbye, and Carter returned it more gruffly this time, purposefully avoiding meeting Norman's eye.

"I'll see you again before you leave, right?" he asked Norman amidst his own goodbye hug. Norman squeezed him back in response.

" 'Course you will." Shaun grinned again before leaving the room, giving them both a wave goodbye as the door shut behind him. Both men remained watching the door for a moment before simultaneously looking at one another. Carter's eyes narrowed upon seeing the small, knowing smile on Norman's face.

"So I was right about you liking kids…"

"Whatever, shit head. At least _I_ know how to act around them. Fucking…cussing around Shaun all the time."

Norman blushed slightly at that, looking away irritably before responding. "I don't mean to. It just slips out sometimes…"

"Yeah? It's not that hard to just watch your mouth, Norm," Carter shot back, completely ignoring the fact that he had slipped up earlier as well. Besides, he had caught himself in time, and Norman hadn't been there to witness it anyway.

"Yeah, well…I bettah get goin' before your nurse comes back and strangles me with your bandages."

"In that case, you should stick around…"

"Ha, ha…see you tomorrow, asshole."

* * *

><p>"Mr. Blake, you have a visitor here to see you."<p>

It was the blonde nurse's shift this time, to Carter's pleasure. Not only was she a lot better on the eyes, she also didn't nag like all the other nurses he'd had to deal with the past few days.

"Is it Jayden again?" he asked with a bored sigh. Though, out of all his visitors so far, Jayden had been the most tolerable. First Ash had come to talk shit about how he had _valiantly_ saved his life in the raid, (a bullshit lie, he had been in an entirely different room at the time and it was Gary that brought the punk down) and then Perry to tell him he had this week off for emergency leave…and that he was putting into effect all the paid vacation days he'd been stockpiling for the week after. God, the rest of the month was going to be so fucking boring.

The nurse nodded and Carter held back a sigh of relief. It's not that he wanted to see the punk again, he just…made for better company than his alternatives. That was all.

"You're so lucky you're friends with that FBI agent," the nurse sighed enviously.

Carter choked on the sip of water he had been taking. "What?"

"Oh, you know…You seem to get along so well, I'm a little jealous…He's quite handsome, too. Not that that means much to you, of course, " she added with a giggle. "Ahh, I'm sorry. I'm not being very professional, am I? I'll send him in." She left the room just in time to avoid seeing the red on Carter's face from irritation…and another emotion entirely.

Not a second after making sure it was Norman that was opening the door, he threw the now empty water bottle in his direction. Once more, Norman caught it absently.

"Your throwing arm's not back yet, I see," he said with a ghost of a grin.

"Back again, Jayden? Don't you have a job?" Carter inquired, eyeing the man in his signature suit and tie. He gave an absentminded shrug in response.

"We're just cleanin' up a case right now. I can do that from home. Well…from Ethan's, anyway."

"Mars still isn't back yet?" he asked, slightly surprised. It must've been a week by now. Norman just shrugged again in response.

"Should I be worried?" Carter smirked. "Babysitting his kid and house sitting…"

Heat quickly rushed to Norman's face as he coughed slightly in embarrassment. "I can have friends without sleeping with them, Cartah."

"If you say so…" Carter grinned as he remembered the little idea he'd been playing with. The nurse made it pretty clear in _his_ eyes that she wanted Norman's dick, so why not try?

"What are you, anyway, Norm?" he asked. Upon seeing the confused expression on his face, he clarified. "Are you gay or what?"

"Is this some kinda trick? An' you tried to tell _me_ I'm a shitty detective?" Jayden asked disbelievingly. He quickly scanned the room, as if looking for recording devices.

"Just answer the question, queer."

Throwing up his hands in exasperation, Norman then folded them irritably in front of him as he leaned against the wall. "Well…yeah, I am, Cartah."

"Never been with a girl, then?"

"…I don't think that's eneh of your business…"

"Sure it's my business. We're fucking, aren't we?" Norman's face was steadily getting redder in embarrassment, spurring the cop to continue with the subject. "I'm pretty damn sure my nurse wants to fuck you, I figured we could work something out…"

Before Norman could muster a response, the door flew open once more as said nurse in question walked in with a tray containing Carter's dinner.

"I brought another water for you and your friend…am I interrupting something?" The nurse stopped, laying the tray down next to Carter's bed before approaching Norman. "Are you okay, sir? Your face is flushed…" She brought a hand up to Norman's forehead to check for a fever. Norman jumped back in surprise at the sudden contact with a woman he had just been suggested to hook up with, stammering slightly as he put distance between her. Carter watched the entire event with great pleasure – shame he wouldn't be able to bring them both to bed, but teasing the shit out of Norman was his second favorite pastime after sex.

"I'm fine, uh…Thanks for the wat'ah…" his accent thickening, likely due to nerves. Carter had to admit he liked it when th at happened…it was surprisingly…cute.

Looking nearly as disappointed as Carter felt that Norman wasn't eager to touch her, the nurse gave an awkward smile before nodding to Carter. "Once we change your bandages, he's free to take you home. I'll be back to do it in about 15," she told him before exiting the room once more.

The air in the room grew slightly awkward upon her exit. While Carter was busy thinking of all the different ways he could insult the queer, Norman stepped closer to his bed, putting his hands loosely on his hips before forcing Carter on the defensive.

"What about _you_, Cartah? Obviously…you like women, but…"

Carter should have expected the question, having brought up the topic initially, and yet…he found himself completely dumbstruck as he stumbled for a reply. Sure, he had found an answer that made sense to himself, but it was all a jumble of thoughts and feelings that he had never entirely sorted out to the point where he could explain it aloud. His lack of time to think made his answer far more truthful than he would have liked.

"…I dunno…I don't think about you being a guy when I fuck you, just…you…"

Carter would have gladly been shot more several times if it meant he could take that statement back. Yet the words had already been uttered, and he stammered quickly in an attempt to somehow override them.

"Don't-…get any ideas, though. That doesn't mean shit."

"Carter…do you know why I came here?" Norman paused, allowing Carter time to answer. Usually, Carter had no problem telling what Norman was thinking – he read like a fucking book. Yet now, his expression was remarkably neutral.

When it came obvious that Carter didn't quite understand the question, Norman continued. "Why I first came to the hospital after you were shot, I mean."

Carter blinked, rolling that question over in his mind. He did remember being surprised Norman had arrived to the hospital so fast…he had been in town, obviously, to watch Shaun, but even so, word that he'd been injured wouldn't have traveled that quickly.

"…I don't know what you're talking about, kid."

"Really?" Norman quirked. "There isn't enahthing you did?"

Where the fuck was he going with this? Carter hadn't bothered telling Norman there was going to be a police raid, and he highly doubted the agent had buddied up with anyone in the police force to learn about it…So there was no way Perry, Ash, or Charlene had called…

_Oh, shit._

Charlene. A few weeks ago, she had been getting on his case that he hadn't revised his emergency contact information in over a year. The paperwork had to be updated annually, and in his irritation at what he considered to be an utterly pointless chore, he had put down the name of the first and only person he could think of that would give a shit if he had been hospitalized. A person that happened to be standing in this very room wearing a shitty little smug smile.

"…So what?" Carter snapped, the redness on his cheeks very clearly indicating "what". "It's not like I fucking put you down for my life insurance…I just figured you _might _be interested in knowing if I was ever shot. I wasn't aware that that made me fucking gay."

Norman just laughed lightly, leaning back on the rails of his bed casually before meeting his eyes. They held that mischievous little glint that usually meant Norman was about to say or do something that would put him in a shit ton of trouble.

"…I wasn't sayin' it did…"

"…You suck dick pretty well for someone who isn't gay, though."

Without a thought or care of opening his wound, Carter's injured arm shot forward, dragging Norman by the neck back to him with a snarl. The rest of his body collapsed on top of Carter, still holding him one handed by the neck as he tightened his grip. The strength behind it didn't allow for a single sound to escape Norman's lips, his eyes doing the pleading instead as they watered up in pain and fear.

Carter gave him one last shake before throwing him loose entirely, watching him nearly fall off the foot of the bed in satisfaction. His shoulder began to ache in protest from the exertion, but he felt the pain was worth it to silence the defiant little faggot in front of him. He leaned back against the bedframe, breathing deeply in anger.

"…Cartah."

Carter's eyes snapped open, issuing the agent rubbing his neck weakly a warning look. He was _not_ in the mood for Norman's bullshit. If only because the nerve he had struck was one that constantly ate him away.

"…You wanted to know if I'd evah slept with a girl?" he asked with a sigh, lifting his hands slightly to indicate he was done teasing.

"Yeah?" In spite of himself, Carter's curiosity was piqued once more.

"Well, uh…I have, a couple times, but…" Norman gave a sigh, the expression on his face clearly indicating he was about to share something he wasn't comfortable about. Carter found himself leaning forward to catch it.

"…You were the first guy I was evah with that I wasn't…y'know…on top for." Norman looked like he immediately regretted saying that, but his no doubt desired effect did occur – Carter felt himself calming down considerably as Norman's words sunk in. It was always like this, it seemed to him; intentionally or not, Norman would piss him off to breaking point, only to somehow find the right words to say moments later that could douse the flames he himself had set off. Part of Carter was annoyed – they could skip the entire process if Norman wasn't such a little _shit_ – yet a larger part wanted to analyze what Norman had just confessed. Within seconds, he found himself doubling over with laughter.

"What?" Norman snapped, no longer looking embarrassed so much as annoyed.

"You really expect me to believe that? Bullshit, you lying asshole," Carter grinned.

"I'm not usually with bipolar, dominating _jackasses,_ Blake."

"Even so…the closest _you'd_ ever get to topping is the shit on your ice cream." He leaned forward in order to grab Norman by his tie, which had loosened considerably from earlier. Like the leash on a dog, he yanked it hard to pull the man forward, intently studying the flurry of emotions presenting themselves on his face. More specifically, he was searching for the small glimmer of arousal he often managed to spot in Norman's startlingly bright blue eyes.

Upon finding it, Carter released his strangling hold on the tie with a smirk. Maybe the kid was telling the truth, but in his eyes, Jayden seemed to enjoy in spite of himself the compromising positions he'd put him in. It was usually only afterwards, with a hefty amount of _polite_ encouragement, that he could get him to admit it, though.

"Anyway, tough sh-" Carter broke off as the nurse with increasingly inopportune timing opened the door cheerfully once more.

"All right, let's redress that wound, Mr. Bla-" she stopped midsentence as she took in the sight of Norman laying on top of her patient with Carter still leaning forward hardly a few inches away from his face.

"…Maybe…later?"

* * *

><p>" 'Bet if you slept with her, she'd keep quiet."<p>

"Carter, for the last god damn time, I'm not sleeping with that nurse."

"All right, all right…"

Carter lazily leaned back into the passenger's seat of Norman's car as he pulled in to his driveway, enjoying the disgruntled expression on the other man's face. He wasn't worried about the nurse – she seemed far too obsessed with Norman's publicity to throw mud all over it.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Norman yanked the keys out of the ignition and slipped them into his pocket before looking back at him. His eyes rested on his shoulder a little too long for the act to be innocent.

"…You need he-" Norman coughed, wisely deciding to rephrase the question in a way that allowed for Carter's dignity remain intact. "…You want me to come inside?"

Carter's pride dwindled nonetheless as he gave a slight nod, waiting for Norman to exit the vehicle and walk to the passenger door before getting out himself. His arm immediately sought support, settling for wrapping itself around Norman's neck as he leaned in for the leverage this action provided.

"Not a word, Norman," he grunted, shame filling him as he relied on the younger man for support in a task as simple as walking. He wasn't really in pain anymore, the pain killers he had been prescribed still fully in effect. Thankfully, they didn't have the unfortunate side effect of making him loopy as hell. There was no way he'd trust himself around Norman in that sort of state – who knew what kind of shit he'd say?

He _did_ feel horribly drained, however. That was apparently to be expected. His mind was still fully awake and racing, but his body ached to just launch itself into his bed for hours on end.

Yet as Norman shifted him slightly, placing an arm behind him before resting it on his waist all while shifting his other arm around to grab the one he had swung around Norman's neck, an entirely different desire took hold of his body. They rarely found themselves in such a close proximity unless something considerably more erotic was taking place.

Carter's face half-in Norman's hair, he couldn't help smelling whatever shit he put in it. It didn't smell bad, actually…The smell was faintly familiar; he must have caught a whiff of it at least one of the times he had taken him from behind, resting his face into the curly locks as he eagerly thrust into him…

Carter tried to shake the thoughts away as the beginnings of an erection formed, knowing that it wouldn't take long for Norman to notice, given the lack of distance between them. He didn't care if he felt it so much as he prayed Norman wouldn't take it the wrong way – he loathed the position he was finding himself in, but he also couldn't deny he had missed the physical contact being in the hospital had denied him. Besides, that damn smell was reminding him of quite a few of their times together.

They had finally made their way to Carter's front door when Norman apparently realized he had no way of opening it. Without releasing the grip of either of his hands, Norman gave him a quick side look before asking the obvious question.

"Where's the key?"

"Pocket…" Carter knew what was going to happen, yet figured it was too late to stop it. He half-heartedly tried to reach for it first before Norman's hand left his side and dug into his front pocket, securing the key…and, inevitably, brushing against his erection. His hand immediately stopped fumbling around, casting him a dry, amused look instead.

"Do you _evah_ think about anything else?"

"What? I had to deal with your smartass mouth for a week without fucking it."

"Cartah…" Norman ignored the jab, sighing slightly. "I don't think that's a good idea right now."

A small growl rose in Carter's throat. He might have accepted just sleeping off his horniness – he _was _tired – but after hearing that blatant statement of denial, he sought to prove himself.

"Bullshit. Just...shut up and help me to my room."

Surprisingly, Norman complied as he shut the door behind them with a lock. Sending Carter a quick look, he let go of his hold to hang up their keys and remove his jacket. Carter leaned against the wall, trying to make the action look as casual as possible instead of the desperate effort to stay upright unaided that it was.

They had barely made it to Carter's bed before he collapsed into it, dragging Norman by the waist with him. That irritating concern was written all over Norman's face again as Carter fumbled to remove his tie and undershirt. Rather than voice his preoccupation, however, Norman merely raised his hands to help Carter remove his own clothes.

Once the last article of clothing had been thrown onto the floor beside the bed, Carter hesitated as he finally spotted a rather fatal flaw in his plan so far. The only bottle of lubricant he had was in the bathroom…If he was completely honest with himself, he knew there was no way he could make it there and back without physically exerting himself too much. Maybe he could ask Norman to get it...? No, that was completely out of the question as well. It would make him look far too weak, especially since he'd more than likely refuse and make him give up the effort entirely.

Though…there was still a way he could _force_ Norman to resolve this little issue…

Without entirely thinking through how Norman would react, he shoved two of his fingers into his mouth, past his teeth before resting them on his tongue. For a moment Norman just stared at him, shocked. His mouth slowly closed around them, making Carter close his eyes with a smirk. He knew it – Norman wanted this to happen just as badly as him, concern for his health aside. It was far too easy to get him to bend to his will sometimes…

Off in his own satisfied little fantasies about how submissive Norman was being, it took Carter several seconds to register why his nerves were sending messages of pain back to his brain. His eyes shot open to find that Norman was fucking _biting him._

"_Ow-!_ You little shit-" He winced, pulling the fingers from his mouth hastily as he tried to shake off the pain.

"What were you expecting, for me to suck them?" Norman asked incredulously, too perplexed at the fact that Carter honestly believed he'd willingly lick his fingers like a tamed dog to properly be angry.

"They're going up your ass in a second, it'd be in your best interest."

"Wha-" He cut him off by shoving them back into his mouth, watching with great satisfaction as Norman's eyes widened with surprise and hatred. His amusement peaked, however, as he felt his fingers be thoroughly licked before Norman sucked down on them. He paid especially close attention to the parts where his teeth has sunken into, running his tongue along them almost apologetically as if to appease him.

_Nice try._

Carter's smirk widened as he removed the now dripping fingers out of Norman's mouth before lightly shoving him back into the bed. Without even planning it, his lips met Norman's again as if to reward him for his previous actions as his hand moved between Norman's thighs. He made the kiss far more forceful when Norman stubbornly shut his lips together in an attempt to deny him, all while sticking one of his dampened fingers inside of him.

The moan that followed forced Norman's mouth to open to allow it to escape, and Carter seized the opportunity to force his tongue in. This time, Norman responded in kind as his finger sought that sweet spot from before. He found it fairly quicker this time around, rubbing it firmly before pulling his fingertip away.

Norman broke off the kiss immediately, jerking his head away with a gasp. "Dammit, Cartah…don't…fucking tease me like this…"

Carter smirked lightly, his finger only brushing against the sensitive organ again. "Weren't you the one who told Shaun I was a bully?"

"_Mm_…well, you _are_…" Carter pushed his finger down harder before quickly drawing them away. "Ah…I'm sorry?" he tried, a slightly desperate edge to his voice. Carter merely shook his head, the smirk remaining.

Norman bucked down in frustration, trying fruitlessly to make the sensations return. "Fuck, Cartah, what do you _want_?"

In response, Carter slowly stuck another finger inside of him, arching it back to playfully scrap against the organ. A small pant escaped Norman as he watched his face for reactions.

"To see you squirm around like this more. So there's not really anything you can do to convince me," he chuckled lightly. Removing his fingers slowly, he pulled out of the younger man completely as he reached instead for Norman's cock. His fingers trailed over it for a moment, making Norman buck forward eagerly. Grinning slightly at the reaction, Carter led his fingers to the head, scooping up the precum with his fingertips. Carter rolled the clear liquid in between the digits for a moment, spreading it equally before sliding them back inside him. This time, however, he heavily increased the pressure he was applying against Norman's prostate. It'd be more fun if he got him closer before stopping…

His intentions must have been written all over his face, as Norman shot him a look of pure and utter defiance. He met Carter's eyes, swallowing a moan before opening his mouth to speak.

"You finger a guy pretty well too, for someone who's straight…"

With a growl that would sound far more natural coming from a beast than a man, Carter pulled his fingers out and shoved Norman into the bedpost. He was going to fuck all of the bastard's smartass little comments out of him – or maybe just beat him into submission, he hadn't quite decided yet. In an act of sheer self-defense, Norman put his body weight into shoving him back, the palm of his hand digging right into his shoulder before he fell over with a cry of pain.

"Oh, fuck, Cartah, I'm s'ahrry!" Norman's face looked absolutely struck with guilt as he quickly crawled over to him, pushing him back into an upright position while squinting to examine his covered shoulder. "It didn't open, did it?"

Carter bit his lip in agony, willing the cries of pain back with all his remaining strength as he tried to relax his expression. The wound was still closed, but_ god_, it hurt.

"I'm _fine,"_ he growled angrily, more annoyed to hear his own voice laced with pain than the fact that Norman had been the one to cause it. "Stop fretting over me like a fuckin' housewife…"

Unabashed by what must have been the thousandth shot as Norman's masculinity, he ignored the comment completely in his response.

"This is stupid, I shouldn't 'ave let you talk me into this…We gotta stop-"

"Norman, we are _not_ stopping halfway-"

"-…You're unbelievable, you know that? I should go back to the doctor's and make 'em prescribe you a pain killer that'll kill your sex drive."

That threat sounded a little too realistic, coming from a psychological profiler, to be unfounded. Instead of continuing the current direction of the argument, Carter sought instead to tackle it from a different angle.

"What, you want to fucking stop? You were the one begging me to continue a minute ago," he countered, satisfied with his progress when Norman averted his eyes, turning pink again from shame. "Well?"

"…No, I don't want to stop…" he admitted after a moment. "…But that doesn't mean-"

"-…We'll just do something a little less taxing," Carter interrupted, the pain in his shoulder lessening while his still untouched erection ached for relief. "All right?"

Norman nodded in consent with the passing of a sigh, filling Carter with relief he fought to hide showing. The little bastard could probably beat him in a fight at this moment, so forcing him into anything was, for once, out of the question. If he had refused…well, it'd not only mean a blow to his pride, but also a loss in their near-constant rivalry…Plus, he'd have gone to bed very unsatisfied, which would have been quite unfortunate.

The solution he had in mind was faintly embarrassing, however, and more than a little too intimate for his liking. Not to mention it meant sharing quite a bit of control…but, under the circumstances, it was the best he could come up with.

With another light shove from his good arm, he pushed Norman into the bed again, this time on his right side. The younger man just watched him in a confused, yet curious way as Carter paused, making sure the set up so far would allow him to be resting on his uninjured shoulder. Once satisfied that his sense of direction was in order, Carter leaned down to his left slowly.

A small noise of surprise came from across the bed as Norman finally realized what exactly Carter had in mind. "You're kiddin', right? This isn't-…this is way too-" He tried jerking his hips away from Carter's face, prompting him to grab his waist and pull him back forward. Norman's erection brushed gently against his face, his beard tickling against the organ as a result.

"I'd get to work if I was you, you'll need the head start…"

Norman picked up on the threat in his tone easily. There was no pause or hesitation as he felt Norman's mouth encompass his dick at long last, making him tighten his grip on Norman's waist with a gasp of pleasure washed with relief. It was oddly erotic, not being able to see the action be done for once.

For a moment, Carter relished in the feeling of Norman's tongue coiling around his cock, jerking his hips forward for more. It felt like it had been months rather than just a few busy weeks since he had been inside the little bastard's mouth. After a moment of just enjoying the sensations, Carter reminded himself the position in general _did_ imply mutual stimulation…And Norman had rather earned it, visiting him at the hospital every day. Even if he was a little shit more often than not, he found himself quite sorry to see him go every time visiting hours were over. The hours without him were actually…kind of lonely.

Carter steadied Norman's waist again before moving in to dampen Norman's cock with his tongue before wrapping his lips around it. As expected, Norman wiggled his hips a little in response – Carter still wasn't sure whether he was trying to lessen or increase the feeling with that motion. He always seemed incredibly embarrassed when he decided to focus on his pleasure for a change. It was similar, he realized, to how much Norman hated talking about himself, always awkwardly shying away from the subject, discreetly trying to guide the flow of conversation elsewhere.

It was this reluctance that spurred Carter to take more of him into his mouth, noting with mixed amusement and irritation that as he did so, Norman's own ministrations lost focus and strength.

_Can't multitask worth shit._

To his disappointment, he felt Norman removing his mouth with a small pop. He spent a moment trying to catch his breath, the hot air sending Carter small shivers of pleasure as they lightly made contact with his dick.

"…Ease up, Cartah, I can barel' focus…" he managed before taking him in again.

He took his own mouth off Norman's cock for a moment to respond. "Sorry, can't help being_ good_ at this," he shot back, the words rewarded by a half strangled chuckle from across the bed. The vibrations from the action made Carter shiver again in pleasure before continuing himself. It was getting harder for him to focus as well, breathing made much more difficult as he struggled to take in oxygen, Norman, and the pleasure he was administrating all at the same time. The lightheadedness from lack of oxygen just made the sensations stronger, adding to the vicious cycle…There was no way he was going to last much longer.

Carter shifted slightly, freeing his left arm from underneath him as he pushed it in between Norman's thighs again, slipping the two fingers from earlier back inside of him. It was significantly harder to both maneuver his fingers to the sensitive spot from this angle, as well as to maintain a level of focus, but all he had to do was make it last for a few brief moments…

He felt Norman's nails dig in to his hips in response with enough strength to break skin. The small shot of pain coupled with the pleasure of Norman sucking down on him with more force sent him over the edge as the salty taste filling his mouth gave evidence that Norman had finished as well.

He withdrew his mouth off the softening member, swallowing the results with a grimace. He really needed to get on the guy about eating healthier. He felt and heard Norman do the same, as well as rolling onto his back with an exhausted sounding sigh.

Carter felt the bed shift slightly, and he raised his head a little just in time to receive a pillow in the face. Norman crawled over closer to him, grabbing it from his chest and slipping it under his raised neck.

He let his head fall back again, shooting the other man a quick look of gratitude before he closed his eyes in satisfaction, ready to sleep his entire vacation time away. The wonderful sounding idea was interrupted when he felt a rise in the mattress that indicated Norman had left his bed.

Carter peaked an eye open, raising his head again in confusion as he spotted Norman getting dressed.

"Where're you going?"

"…I'm house sitting, remember? Ethan'll be home tomorrow night, so Grace is dropping Shaun off in the morning."

Carter leaned back with a huff, rubbing his temples in an attempt to sedate the absolutely feminine request he wanted to state. It was in vain, however, as he once more heard himself speaking before he could stop himself.

"You can still stay here…" His still opened eye caught Norman's surprised expression, and he hastily continued to explain himself. "We can both go to Mars's place tomorrow. I wouldn't mind seeing Shaun again…"

Norman's lips twitched upward at his statement, and he kicked off his pants absently before sitting back onto Carter's bed with a sigh.

" 'Ya know, Cartah, I'm not sure who I came up here to babysit anymore…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Special shot out to OnlySnakesCanLove for the not-so-subtle 69 challenge…At first, I was like "Psh, not a chance."...And then I kept thinking "Well..._maybe_..." until I finally gave in and tried it. It was really hard to write, especially trying to keep it in character, but hopefully I had some success there. It was so damn fun trying, anyway.**

** I try to keep all of your comments in mind (I appreciate them! Really! I'm just shitty at responding), and I like to vary the positions I write them in, in particular because I don't like the idea of Blake just dominating the shit out of Jayden…At least, not all the time ;) Where's the fun in that? Jayden's definitely the type to fight back, in my interpretation anyway. Plus, I think Blake would rather like that he doesn't just bend over and take it, he must get bored of people submitting to him all the time. I'm sure the sex is a lot more passionate when they're both pissed as hell at one another.**


	6. Confidence

**Author's Note: This ended up being, uh…smuttier than I expected? :'D About as candle-light dinner-esque as Blake/Jayden could get, really.**

**Or, rather…as much as Jayden/Blake could get?**

***flees* **

**(By the way, the defense scenarios below – they come from a lesson one of my friends that went through the SEAL program taught me. It was an entirely casual demonstration and it comes strictly from my own moderately shitty memory, so if you ever find yourself in a dangerous situation and use anything written here and get horribly mugged, please don't sue me. I'm writing porn, not a self-defense handbook)**

* * *

><p>"The chamber's empty." Carter confirmed this by pulling back the slide with his hand, displaying the pistol's vacant cavity before releasing the slide back to its normal position. "…And the magazine's been removed." He pulled the gun so the nozzle was facing the ceiling, displaying quite clearly that the pistol was empty. Norman nodded in confirmation at Carter's demonstrations. It wasn't that he didn't trust the police officer, but gun safety was something neither of them wanted to play around with. The only way his mind could completely be at ease was if he saw it was unloaded first-hand.<p>

The situation Norman found himself in was quite unusual. It started with the location – his own living room, with most of his furniture pushed to the walls to open the area up. Then came the company; after spending so much time in Blake's house, it was almost foreign to see him staying in his own.

It hadn't actually been his idea for Carter to stay in D.C. No, to his surprise, it had been Carter who had made the off-hand suggestion, citing his extended, paid vacation as his reasoning. Showing him around the nation's capital the past couple of days had been surprisingly fun. Carter had a pointed disinterest in politics, which narrowed down their to-do list considerably, but they were able to spend an entire day and a good chunk of the night at the National Mall and Memorial Park. He had especially enjoyed the World War II memorial, dragging Norman around like a child would on a field trip with an unenthused parent.

They had taken the day off today to allow Carter to recover, and yet hardly halfway through, his inability to just sit and relax was showing itself. It was that that brought Norman to the third and final unusual part of his day so far.

Norman knew why Carter had suddenly suggested teaching him some self-defense tactics against an armed person; it was obvious, after being shot himself (though which time he was on now, Norman wasn't sure), that he didn't want to see the same happening to him. Easily explainable as the gesture was, Norman couldn't help but legitimately be touched about it. Carter never said how he felt – he showed it. And in this particular instance, he was demonstrating a protective side of him that Norman had only previously caught glimpses of. The fact that Carter was genuinely worried about his safety filled him with a sense of being wanted that he had seldom had the opportunity to feel.

"Right, the first scenario I wanna focus on is more for when you're off the clock."

Carter gestured with the gun for Norman to turn his back to him so he was facing the wall. Hardly a second later, Norman felt the familiar cold steel press against the small of his back. He couldn't help jumping a little at the sensation, despite knowing the gun wasn't loaded. He stole a quick glance back to see Carter holding the gun in his left hand, smiling in a way that was not entirely reassuring. The first – and last – time Carter had been pointing a gun at him was in the interrogation room after Norman had hit him across the face. For a brief moment, Norman wondered if he was thinking about the same thing, fervently hoping revenge wasn't on his mind. He had never actually delivered pay back for that particular incident.

Fortunately, Carter continued explaining himself as if nothing was wrong. "Somethin' like this'll usually happen at night, to someone distracted…Like if you're getting money at an ATM. Now, you shouldn't be fucking getting money out of an ATM alone at night _anyway_, but since common sense isn't your forte, I think this lesson is pretty applicable." He poked the nozzle into Norman's back a few times teasingly before continuing. Grateful Carter couldn't see his face, Norman didn't bother masking an irritated smile. This whole teaching role was definitely going to his head.

"Normally, the attacker'll tell you to turn around and put your hands up before anything else. Do it," he added with another sharp jab to the back from the gun. "But keep your elbows in and your arms close to your body – Don't fuckin' raise them above your shoulders, do you _wanna _be mugged? – Good, like that, right in front of your chest.

"This is when they'll ask for your money, your wallet – whatever. Go through the motions slowly as if you're really grabbing into your pocket. It doesn't hurt to say aloud what you want him to think you're doing, either.

"Now, this next part's gotta be fast. Hit 'em square in the face, as hard as you fucking can – this is the punch of your life. Step forward when you strike so you can put your full body weight into it. _While_ you're doin' that, grab the top of the gun with your free hand and point it away from you – the trigger almost always gets pulled in the struggle – before grabbing it too-"

"But-" Norman had tried to keep silent until now, since God knows _he_ hated interruptions when he was trying to explain something. Besides, he had never heard the police lieutenant talk so much before, and he didn't want to be the one to stop him. Hearing him go on about something he was obviously highly knowledgeable in was refreshing. And the glow he had in his eyes while explaining everything was…oddly attractive. Norman was always the student that got along with his teachers, enjoying both the feeling of learning something new and seeing someone passionately explain their life's work. He never expected to experience this with Blake. Yet much like the student he was not long ago, he had encountered something in Carter's lecture he didn't quite understand.

"Yeah?"

"Won't the gun burn you when it fires? Or-…or the slide pinch your hand when it goes back?"

Carter chuckled, brushing under his nose with his thumb lightly before responding. "Probably. And your hand'll be hurting like a bitch too from the punch – but I guarantee you your adrenaline'll be pumping way too hard for you to even notice 'til afterwards. Anyway, after you get positive control of the gun, you'll want to take some steps back – put some distance between you n' him – and then you can put your _master_ FBI negotiation skills to work."

Norman ignored the verbal jab, but when the physical one with the gun hit his chest, he scowled and waved it away. Scratch that, it was _definitely_ going to his head. "Alright…so how're we gonna practice this? You don't tend to appre'ciate me hittin' you in the face."

Carter gave an icy little laugh, his lips curling into a cold smile to match it before answering. "…Good question. You'll want to put all your strength into the attack still, but aim for the side of my head instead of actually at me."

"Wouldn't it be better if I hit you for real, but pulled it?"

"Nah, you don't want to get too used to doing shit like that…I had a guy once that disarmed this druggie we were apprehendin'…and then he fucking handed the gun back to the guy afterward, like we did in practice!" Carter threw his hands in the air in an exasperated sort of way, smiling slightly at the amused look on Norman's face. "No, this way, you'll go through the full motions of the counterattack so you'll get used to how much force you'll have to put into it."

Norman bit his lip slightly before nodding. For a brief moment, he considered_ accidentally_ missing – or, rather, accidentally hitting – just to see what would happen. Then he gave himself a little shake, reprimanding himself for even thinking that.

_C'mon, the guy's goin' through all this trouble to help you. Yeah, he's a dick, but that's nothing new. _

"Ready?" Carter questioned, gesturing with the gun again for him to return to facing the wall. "We'll do it step by step until you've got it right before going full speed…"

Trying to remember everything Carter had just told him in order, Norman turned around slowly once Carter jabbed him in the back again. Determined to get him to stop teasing him so condescendingly, he kept his arms close together this time, lightly pressing them against his chest. Carter noted the difference with a slight nod of approval, making Norman smile as a rush of pride from his acknowledgement surged through him.

_Right. Now, uh…what came next...? _Norman blinked, just awkwardly holding his hands up for a moment as he tried to remember what his next move was supposed to be.

Carter smirked lightly in response to his inaction. "Should we start from the top?" he asked with a grin. "Since you've just been standing there long enough for me to take your money and run…"

Norman nodded with an embarrassed cough. _You're acting like a fucking middle school girl, trying to impress her hot male teacher by gettin' his questions right... Focus! _

The thought had the absolute opposite effect as various images swam through his mind of Carter in any sort of teaching position, with himself as one of his pupils. He shook his head in hope of dispersing the imagery from his mind. _Right, well, unless you want detention with the bastard, get back to the lesson….Oh, god, that thought doesn't help __**at all**__…_

For the briefest of seconds, Norman could practically see Carter at the front of a classroom, coldly staring at him for acting up in class. He approached him slowly, placing his hands on his desk so their faces were hardly inches apart before muttering with a threatening undertone, "…See me after class, _Norman_."

A refreshingly cool metal hit Norman's burning face gently a few times before he snapped back to reality and realized Carter was tapping the gun against his cheek. The expression on his face was one of complete and utter amusement.

"…If you're done blushin' like a school girl…" he chastised dryly, motioning for him to turn around again. The disgusting accuracy behind the insult almost gave Norman a panic attack as he prayed to any and every god that Carter hadn't somehow acquired the ability to read minds within the last few minutes. "…let's try this again."

_Turn, hands up, punch. Without any creepy fantasies. Got it._

Norman was quite sure everything had gone perfectly the second time around, up until the point where he swung with all his might past Carter's left ear…until he heard Carter sigh slightly before wrapping his arm around Norman's waist from under his extended arm, dragging him back into his chest before poking the gun into his side.

"Forget something, Norm?" he hissed directly into his ear, making Norman suppress a shudder.

_Great job, Norman, you lost to Carter one handed this time. Or does it count as no handed, since he was still holding the gun?_

"Uh…Y-yeah."

"Uh-huh." Carter pushed him back into the wall with his good arm before continuing. "Stop wasting my time and focus."

A wave of anger washed away his previous thoughts quite effectively as they repeated the exercise for the third time. This time, however, as Norman went in for the fake punch, he remembered to grab the gun and yank it away. With a satisfied grin, he looked back to Carter just in time to see him roll his eyes in exasperation.

"What?" Norman asked in annoyance as a small pang of disappointment from his reaction hit him.

"Well, that was better, but if the gun was loaded you'd have a hole in your stomach. Remember to aim the gun away before the punch is fully connected_, then_ grab it when they're dazed…"

Absolutely determined to get everything perfectly right this time, Norman gave the pistol back with a heated glare before turning around quickly, in part so he wouldn't have to see the look on Carter's face. The small chuckle he heard from behind him was bad enough. Fortunately, everything went smoothly this time around as he swatted the gun away, aimed the fake punch (admittedly coming entirely too close to his face this time) and seized control of the pistol. Norman even remembered to take a few side steps away in order to distance himself from the man. He raised the gun and aimed at him until a genuine smile took Carter's face.

"…_Finally_," he teased, though he sounded far more pleased than annoyed. With a few short steps he closed the distance Norman had made, snatching the gun away before sliding it across his cheek again. "Now…You wanna tell me what was on your mind that made this take so long? I think I've got a pretty good idea…"

Norman coughed, pushing Carter back by his good shoulder before stepping back …right into the wall. "…I highly doubt that, Cartah," he managed distractedly, looking from left to right for a good escape route out of his own living room as he sensed a fight coming…or something else entirely. Unfortunately, the way the furniture had been arranged previously to give them space blocked out every good exit.

"That bad?" he chuckled darkly in response, picking up on Norman's defensive stance.

" 'Yah couldn't pry it outta me if 'yah tried, Cartah," Norman swallowed, a small pink taking his face as his accent thickened from a considerable amount of humiliation. What the _hell_ had taken over him?

"…Is that a challenge?"

It was more instinct than anything else that drove Norman's first move to be swatting the gun out of Carter's hands – empty as he knew it was, he had seen enough movies to know he did _not _want to be pistol whipped. The move must have been entirely too predictable, as his wrist was caught before he came close to making contact. Carter did, however, drop the gun and kick it aside before using Norman's arm as leverage to yank him closer.

"All right, lesson 2…What would've happened if that had been loaded, Norm?"

…_I'd be dead or dying? _

He knew the question was more to mock him than anything else, and thus didn't give Carter the pleasure of issuing a response, instead focusing on how he'd come out on top of this particular struggle. Norman racked his brain, trying to think of the hand-to-hand combat techniques he had learned from his own job. As Carter took a step forward with a smirk, Norman moved his right leg around and behind the one Carter had stepped with, planting it firmly in the ground before shoving him back into his couch. The look on Carter's face was one of utter shock as he tripped back into the piece of furniture on his back. Before he could shift himself back up, Norman dashed over to push him further down before teasingly sitting on him, as if to rub in his victory.

It was with a slight disappointment that Norman realized Carter looked more pleased than anything else.

"Hey, that wasn't half bad. I guess _someone_ can teach you how to defend yourself without you checking 'em out the entire time…"

"I wasn't checking you out, _Blake_." Which was at least half true – Norman's 'crime' was considerably less innocent, but Carter certainly didn't need to know that.

Carter paused, shifting underneath his weight to push a knee up, brushing it against his erection with an amused quirk of his eyebrows. "…So this just popped up because you overpowered a guy with a gunshot wound? That's seriously fucked up, _Jayden_."

With a rather cold smirk, Norman pushed his weight down on the cop's knees to avoid any possible cheap shots later. The action was rewarded by a slight grunt of surprise from the older man. "Really, Cartah? If I had'a dime for every time _you_ got off on _me_ losing a fight, I wouldn't need'tah work for the FBI…"

Carter propped himself up with his elbows, returning Norman's smirk with one of his own. "Guess the ball's in your court this time then, pretty boy. What're'yah actually going to_ do_ about it?"

_Wait…what?_

At first, Norman simply thought he was calling his bluff. It made the most sense, from everything he knew about the man and their relationship thus far. Yet as he shifted slightly on top of him in surprise, he noticed as he did so that…Carter was just as hard as he was, despite being the one pinned down…Or was it _because_?

His second thought was that Carter was waiting for him to drop his guard so he could retake control, yet the more Norman studied his face for answers, the less likely that theory seemed. No, the look in the more dominant male's eyes was one Norman was quite used to seeing…because he had seen himself wearing it quite a few times when his face was reflected in Carter's eyes. Anticipation.

"You know, every time I start to believe that you _might_ actually be as smart as you think you are…you prove me wrong again," Carter chastised upon seeing the utterly dumbfounded expression on his face.

"And every time I think you couldn't be more of an unpredictable asshole, you exceed my expectations," Norman replied once his found his voice. _There's no way he means what I think he does…_

"Aw, Norman, you're gonna make me blush…"

Whether Carter was teasing or challenging him, Norman neither knew nor cared. Sending him an irritable look, Norman lifted himself off the man in a swift motion before seizing his wrist and giving him a harsh jerk up. With raised eyebrows and the subtle hint of a smirk, Carter complied.

* * *

><p>Norman used the time Carter was in the shower to let his analytical side do its magic. He was trying to find out what had triggered Carter's sudden interest in Norman taking charge, yet the more analyzing he did, the less sudden it was appearing in his mind. Every time the two of them had tried something new in bed, it <em>had<em> been Carter who initiated it. The one exception was when Norman had ridden him and that had only been because he had been completely shitfaced. Even on that occasion, Carter had submitted to his suggestion.

If there was one particular quality in Carter Blake that Norman had managed to profile, it was that he was curious. Adventurous, even. It shouldn't have come as such a big surprise that as they experimented more and more with one another, pushing the boundaries of their relationship…that one day, his curiosity would get the better of him. His little reveal in the hospital about having on been on top in all his prior relationships probably only fueled that curiosity, as it meant that he'd at least know what he was doing. And it wasn't that Norman _didn't _want to fuck him – since day fucking one he had wanted to take control of the bastard -…but as they spent more time together, Norman had put the thought aside because he didn't want it to turn him away. Having only just successfully quit all his addictions, Norman couldn't, at the time, guarantee that he was mentally strong enough yet to resist falling back into them if Blake wasn't in the picture. Sure, the man drove him absolutely fucking insane, but that aside – hell, even the sex aside – he was an…actual friend he could rely on instead of a high.

Norman took a deep breath when he heard the water turn off in the bathroom, trying to push back his nerves. This whole situation was reminding him of his first time with a guy. He knew why he was anxious, but it didn't stop him from being pissed off at himself about it.

_You gotta be confident, doesn't mattah' how nervous you are. If you let it show that _you're_ nervous, _he's _going to get nervous, and then you'll hafta stop – and, fuck, you can't stop now. Or there'll always be that awkward energy between you, and who knows what'll happen next. _

Fighting to find a reassuring thought, one quickly rose to the surface that he could reside in. The fact that Carter had even brought this up at all meant not only that some part of him – his curious side - wanted it; it more importantly signified that he trusted him. It was almost enough to make him laugh. After all these months together, after all this time of them being partners in two entirely different connotations of the word, Carter Blake finally _trusted _him.

Filled with a new resolve at the thought, Norman sat up just as his bathroom door opened. Carter lingered in doorway for a moment, wearing only a towel around his waist and a sheepish expression Norman had never seen on his face prior. For a fleeting moment he wondered if it meant Carter had changed his mind – and he surprised himself at how disappointed he felt.

"Hey, uh…I kinda…forgot about my bandages and got'em wet…" Carter informed him without making eye contact, clearly embarrassed at making such a mistake.

"Oh…oh! Fuck…I think I have first aid kit downstairs-"

"No, it's fine…I have some extra wrapping n' shit in my suitcase, I just can't tie it myself," he interrupted, still avoiding his gaze.

"Right. Just lie down, Cartah, I'll take care of it…"

Carter sat back at the edge of Norman's bed with a sigh before scooting back. Norman couldn't help sneaking a quick peek at the still healing injury on his shoulder. It looked like a perfect circle, the indent in the middle steadily returning to a more natural, flesh color. Norman quickly turned away, hoping his interest hadn't drawn Carter's attention – he didn't need any more smartass comments about being checked out.

Spotting Carter's suitcase on the floor next to the bed, Norman leaned down and quickly sifted through his belongings in search of the spare medical supplies. Despite practically living at the guy's house on the weekends, he didn't want to snoop around his personal stuff. He personally had certainly tucked a few of his more embarrassing possessions away when he was sure Carter wasn't paying attention.

He finally located a small red and white box underneath most of his clothing. As he went to pull it out, a small bottle of lubricant fell out of the pocket of one of Carter's pants. A grin flashed across his face as he picked that up too before returning to his bed, crawling onto it to meet Carter in the middle. Norman was no stranger to standard first aid - giving CPR to Shaun all those months ago certainly hadn't been the first time he had to put the knowledge to actual use. It was because of this that, as Norman opened the box and applied the dressing, there was no hesitation or confusion behind his ministrations.

"You ever have to do this before?" Carter inquired, lying back against the frame in a more relaxed manner once he realized Norman knew what he was doing. He lifted his shoulder in wordless compliance as Norman wrapped the dressing underneath it as well.

"…Used to wanna be a doctor, if 'yah can believe it."

"No shit? Why the FBI, then?"

The seemingly legitimate interest made Norman blink slightly, taken aback. "I changed my major to psychology instead… Found the human mind more interestin' than the body, I guess." Carter just nodded slightly in wordless understanding.

He was telling the truth, of course – Norman found the human brain an absolute fascination. Analyzing it, as well as outside factors such as environment and upbringing – it always left him with a feeling that there was always more to be explored, more questions to be answered. And then there was the absolute enigma that was Carter Blake, someone whose actions never failed to catch him off guard. _Especially _now. He was trying to put together everything he did know about the man before beginning an act that he previously thought would utterly shatter his pride. It was Carter's idea, true, but Norman knew that how he handled it meant more. And that's what Carter had left him to do. The amount of confidence he had placed in him was almost too much of a responsibility to handle. He had told Carter a thousand god damn times he didn't understand the twisted way his mind worked-

_-…Holy shit, that's it. All right…What would Blake do? _The answer presented itself immediately in his mind, as if it had always been there waiting. When Carter had taken the first step towards permanently changing their relationship just a few short weeks ago, he had handled the situation in a distinct way that spoke volumes of their complicated power struggle.

"Lift 'yah arms up…" Norman ordered quietly, trying to keep all traces of arousal out of his voice as his newfound plan formed itself naturally in his head. Carter must have picked up on something, as he gave him a suspicious look before complying, the untied bandages loosening slightly under the strain of being pulled upward. Norman pulled far more tape off the roll than necessary, rolling it under and over the dressing before biting the excess off and gently pressing the remainder down with a pat.

…_Now or never, Norman._

Not giving Carter any time to lower his arms, or himself any to reconsider his plan, Norman grabbed Carter's wrists and pulled them up to his wooden bedframe, placing them together in one of his own before grabbing the excess medical tape from earlier and wrapping them hastily yet thoroughly around the poles. He could feel Carter shift underneath him in realization of what was happening, and shoved all his weight into sitting on him once more as he finished the job.

He couldn't have hid his triumphant grin if he tried- and he certainly made no effort bothering, anyway, even after spotting the absolutely dangerous glint in Carter's eyes.

"It's not enough to beat up a wounded man, you gotta tie him down too? That's fucking psychopathic." The words were sharp, but Norman could easily catch hints of embarrassment and...something that resembled approval.

"That's pretty rich, comin' from you. Besides, it's pretty clear…" He stopped to mimic the lieutenant's actions from earlier, brushing against his erection with a knee, resulting in the towel slipping off his thighs. "…that 'yah like it."

"Nah, it's just like that because I'm thinking of all the shit I'm going to do to you when I get loose."

"Yeah? Then I guess I'll make the most outta this 'til that happens…" The grin remained firmly planted on his face as Norman reached next to the first aid kit to grab the small bottle he had found from earlier. He practically bathed his fingers in the liquid – despite the rather aggressive initiation, Norman was determined to make the entire process as smooth and painless as possible.

"Do you have to do…that, first?" Carter asked irritably, the tiny hint of embarrassment growing more audible in his voice. Norman looked up from the task, surprised to find the cop watching him closely. He could understand why Carter didn't particularly want him fingering him, as it was the exact same feeling he had held when Carter did it to _him_. Mutual, simultaneous stimulation during sex was one thing, but to finger someone was to remove all focus off oneself, instead putting it on their partner. It was easy to become a rather embarrassing situation under the right circumstances – and being taped to a bed probably fell into that particular category.

"…It'll make things easi'ah, I promise. Just relax."

Carter gave a rather halfhearted sigh before jerking his head to the side slightly in what Norman recognized as a form of consent. Seeing such an action from the ordinarily dominating man made Norman's own hardness almost unbearable. Not wanting to waste any more time, he lifted his lubricated fingers and let the tips lightly slide down Carter's dick, (which was, Norman noted with amusement, still incredibly hard) continuing the motion across and under his testicles before reaching one of the few spots on Carter's body he had never touched previously. Silently praying Carter had thoroughly cleaned himself inside and out in the shower, he brushed one of the dampened fingers against the entrance before slowly wiggling it inside.

Norman looked up again with the intention of watching the older man's face for reactions, unsurprised to find his initial expression to be one of utter discomfort. God only knew that's how he always felt, and unlike Norman, the sheer tightness around his finger was proof that Carter was definitely virginal in this particular experience.

Intent on giving him a distraction until the pain lessened, Norman moved his free hand down to grab Carter's length, slowly brushing his fingertips down it again before carefully taking hold instead of his engorged testicles and rolling them gently in his hand. He shot a glance up to Carter's face – upon seeing it relaxed considerably, his mouth slightly parted as he moaned in relief, Norman's own hardness twitched again as if from impatience. In response to his own body's growing need, he slipped another finger inside, pushing them both up in search of the sensitive organ inside of him.

Hardly a few moments later, Norman both felt and saw Carter jerk upright, followed by what he guessed to be a poorly suppressed groan. Worried he had been too forceful, he stopped moving his fingers in response.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked in a startled manner, moving to pull his fingers out. To his complete surprise, he felt Carter push back on them to move them back in.

"Ah…_No_,"he managed to reply. "…ah…Haha, Christ, no wonder you scream like a fucking girl when I touch you there…"

"Oh, fuck you, Blake," Norman retorted with narrowed eyes as he pushed his fingers back harder against his prostate, smirking in satisfaction as he was rewarded with another sharp moan. It was steadily becoming far too much for the agent to just observe, so with a final firm press down, he removed his fingers from Carter and sat upright.

Carter raised his head to the best of his abilities at the interruption, shooting him an irritated glance when it became obvious to him that he wasn't going to continue. He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to voice his impatience. Not bothering to wait to listen to what Norman was quite certain would not be polite requests, he positioned himself on top of the man, stretching his arms out slightly before resting them on either side of him. He could feel Carter stiffen underneath him, and he raised his head to meet his eyes, waiting expectantly for him to speak.

"…What? If you're waiting for me to fuckin' beg for it, you've got another thing coming."

Norman couldn't hold back a small snort of a laugh, lowering his head slightly with a grin before raising it back up to respond. "Nah, Cartah, I was goin' for somethin' a lot kinkier than that…it's this new thing I heard about that I wanted to try, called _consent_…"

It was only thanks to Norman's scrutinizing gaze that he managed to catch Carter's lips twitching upward at the statement as well. "…Shut up and start, Norm."

"If _you_ say so, Cartah…" he replied before positioning himself at Carter's opening. As determined as Norman was to make this as painless as possible for the other man, he certainly wasn't going to let him get out of this without a liberal amount of remainders of whose idea it was.

"Well, I _do_, so…What the hell's up with you makin' me wait today, anyw-" Carter broke off with a groan as Norman slowly slid in, the wooden frame creaking behind them as his arms jerked forward in an attempt to sedate the sensation. Norman stopped at the tip, aching to push himself entirely in to what had to be the tightest orifice he'd ever been in– yet the desire to not hurt its owner was stronger. He peered into Carter's face, waiting for a signal so he could continue.

"…_Finally_," came the dry reply after an agonizingly long moment. The strength behind the word was weakened by the strain present in his voice, but the callback to the day's earlier events was enough to make Norman laugh a little nonetheless as he continued thrusting forward until he was completely inside the cop. With a fair amount of difficulty, he slid out almost entirely before pushing back in shallowly, repeating the action a few more times until the movements were more easily accepted.

The subdued groans Carter was ushering in response were still laced with pain, compelling Norman to quickly seek out the previously stimulated organ inside of him so he could begin to enjoy the deed as well. In his eyes, it just wasn't fair otherwise – and besides, if he ever wanted to do this again, he knew he'd have to prove – rather similar to how Carter had to him – that being on the receiving end could still be fun.

Norman was just pulling back when he finally brushed against it, the reward being a heavy gasp from the other man. He was taken completely by surprise as Carter pushed back against him for the first time, barely concealing a moan of his own. Wordlessly, Carter lifted his legs and wrapped them around his waist in order to pull him in more - Norman found himself almost grateful for the rather ticklish sensation of Carter's leg hairs brushing against sides and back every time he thrusted in – it gave him something else to focus on to make the almost painfully pleasurable feeling bearable.

The amount of satisfaction Carter's voice now contained was, to Norman, the most satisfying part of all. Once he had started matching Norman's movements, he had simultaneously stopped bothering to subdue the pleasured pants. As ego boosting as it was, it also had the effect of pushing Norman closer and closer to the edge – something he absolutely refused to let happen before causing it to occur with Carter. More to stop the sounds than anything else, Norman leaned forward and, for what must have been the thousandth 'first time' of the day, captured Carter's lips instead of the usual reverse. Carter ushered a muffled, surprised noise in response before returning the gesture in kind.

It wasn't enough to keep the overwhelming sensation at bay, however, making Norman opt to taking a leaf out of Carter's book. Without breaking off the kiss, he trailed his hands down Carter's rather hairy, muscular form before the right one made contact with the hardened organ that had previously been grinding against his own torso. The lube from earlier combined with Carter's precum actually made Norman's hand slip off completely several times before he managed to maintain a grip that was both steady and quick.

Norman finally removed his lips from the cop, kissing down from his bearded jawline to his neck, holding one side with his free hand before pressing his face down into the exposed skin. All his actions were rewarded with moans that were far deeper than anything he had heard from Carter previously, driving Norman absolutely insane. He couldn't hold back his own anymore, either, as he lost anything resembling self-control, thrusting inside him out of instinct more than rhythm.

To his great relief, Norman felt Carter's dick spasm in his hand, covering it with the hot, sticky fluid. He shoved himself forward at the exact same moment Carter pushed back, his ass tightening against him even more, throwing Norman completely over the edge as he came inside him with a sharp cry.

Norman all but collapsed on top of the older man as he pulled out, Carter's deep breathes pushing him up and down as he fought to control his own breathing for several surprisingly blissful moments before the sweat from Carter's chest combined with the same liquid dripping down his forehand, stinging his eyes. After several blinks, Carter's face slowly came back into focus.

"I hate to sound demanding, _Norman_…" The falsity of the statement was not lost on either them as Norman laughed, and even Carter was unable to maintain a straight face. "…but this medical tape isn't exactly comfortable."

"Right, right…" Norman chuckled slightly, his vision still blurred as his eyelids became heavy with desire to sleep. The only word to accurately describe how he dismounted the man was "fell" – but he recovered quickly as he crawled over to the bedframe to undo the wrapping. Without thinking, he yanked the first layer off with a sloppy sort of haste.

"Unh- _OW_! What the fuck is wrong with you!"

"S'ahrry," Norman apologized quickly, wincing at the numerous black hairs that now coated the white tape before throwing it aside.

"Christ…And you whined when I _handcuffed _you…"

Norman scoffed at the memory, the pang of sympathy vanishing completely. "Oh, please, Cartah, it's not like you used the fluffy, pink, cushioned ones…that metal dug into my wrists like a bitch." The second rip got rid of the rest of the tape, and Norman made no real effort to make the process less painful than the first time, relishing in a sick sort of satisfaction as Carter grimaced.

Carter studied the sections of his arms that were now all but hairless with a look of twisted amusement before raising his line of vision to meet Norman's. The predatory glint in his eyes made Norman immediately call into question the wisdom behind his lack of empathy in his previous action. The thought had barely been completed as he felt himself be quickly and effectively pinned in to his own bed.

"Well…That answah's my question to if enethin' has changed…" Norman remarked, though he had trouble keeping the humor out of his tone.

"Heh…If you're good, I figured we _might_ take turns…it's just _mine_ now." He finished the statement with a slight thrust forward against his thigh, making Norman realize with a jump he already had an erection again.

_Where in the hell does this guy get his stamina?_

"So, Norman, still wanna see if I can't pry that fantasy out of you…?"


	7. Answers

**Author's Note: Your wishes are my commands! Well, that, and you guys suggest great ideas that naturally flow in to one another. Keep 'em coming and the chapters will – I'm just a medium, haha.**

**Also, I took Norman's age from the Heavy Rain Wikipedia. Personally, I don't think it's accurate, but it's the only date I could find. Norman looks like he's in his late twenties - I'm gonna have to side with Blake on this one.**

* * *

><p>Carter wasn't sure why he bothered taking care to not make too much noise as he slipped out of Norman's bed, as he knew such an action wouldn't even stir him out of his usual deep slumber. Looking down at the still sleeping agent, the usual devious thoughts of how he could easily fuck with him arose. One of these days, he'd really have to test the limits of how far he could go with <em>literally<em> fucking him before the man woke up – no doubt, the results would be amusing no matter what.

After a moment of fumbling through his still-open suitcase, Carter managed to locate his spare box of cigarettes and its accompanying lighter. He was about to light one up right then and there before he realized he wasn't in the comfort of his own home. With a sigh, he put a cigarette into his mouth to free his hands before pulling a pair of sweatpants out of his luggage and sloppily slipping them on. He skipped the shirt – Norman's backyard had a privacy fence.

Carter was grateful for that particular decision as he stepped out of the back door into D.C.'s sticky summer heat. Despite not being accustomed to the humidity, Carter was willing to tolerate it for the sake of not boxing in Norman's house, out of pure common courtesy even he possessed – though, now that he thought about it, Norman was the first person Carter had ever been with that didn't dog him about the nasty habit. That surprised him – not only was he used to being nagged about it in previous relationships, he figured Norman wouldn't pass up any opportunity to lecture him about his life choices. He still remembered bringing it up teasingly, due to the fact that the other man's reply had been rather peculiar. Just a small laugh before looking away, mumbling something Carter barely caught about everyone "having their own poison". Whatever the fuck _that_ meant.

Once the cigarette had been lit, Carter took a quick puff before locating a standard, plastic white lawn chair (really, couldn't the asshole set aside a tiny chunk of his gigantic fucking paycheck to afford something decent?) to sprawl back in. The action immediately was followed by a shot of pain from his ass, filling Carter with a healthy dose of self-disgust laced with amusement. How many times had he witnessed the same thing happen to Norman before laughing in his face? Well, _that_ table had fucking turned.

Cigarette still in hand, he propped his elbows onto his knees before leaning his face into his hands. It wasn't that he regretted _what _happened; it was how much he had _enjoyed_ it. Of course, he knew it had to be pleasurable in some sense, otherwise Norman wouldn't have kept coming back, but he hadn't quite expected to find himself moaning like a whore at Norman's every ministration. And afterwards, he hadn't_ tried_ to play it off as natural as possible to save face – it had literally just felt that way. Right.

It had been a burning, festering curiosity in him almost immediately after they had started their little fling together, but something Carter had managed to easily put in the back of his mind. Not until after Norman mentioned having experience taking charge had the thought made its way back into his day-to-day musings. And…he had to hand it to him; he wasn't exactly bad at it by any stretch of the imagination. Thought maybe the situation would have been easier to face if he had been.

With a jerk, Carter realized his cigarette was almost completely dwindled away at this point. He hastily tapped off the lingering ash before milking the rest of it for what it was worth, irritated he had practically wasted the entire thing. After the final smoke, Carter flicked the remainder to the ground, blowing out the results in a smooth, methodical manner. The even hotter breeze blew the smoke away, and Carter found himself almost disappearing with it as his thoughts took over once more.

Sitting down like this, finishing a smoke and measuring his own worth as a man – it sent him months back to the first time they'd slept together. His own feelings and thoughts aside, Carter found himself wondering now what Norman had thought. Carter tried to recall Norman's exact words at the hospital – at the time, he had only really been thinking about the implications that Norman had been on top; he hadn't really stopped to consider that that obviously meant he had never been on bottom.

An overwhelming surge of pride shot through him as he continued playing his memory of the night over in his head, now with the added knowledge that he had, to all extents and purposes, practically taken Norman's virginity. The thought deflated quickly when he realized the exact same truth could be applied in the reverse.

That brought him back to his previous musings about what Norman must have been thinking. Despite all the shit he gave the guy on a regular basis, Carter could acknowledge he was a man with a certain degree of warranted self-respect, rather like himself. It couldn't have been easy to have been put into that sort of situation; especially because once again, like himself, Norman had wanted it to happen. If he could find out what Norman's answer was, maybe this whole thing could be easier to deal with?

Lamenting his lack of a cigarette to clear his thoughts more, Carter leaned back into the cheap chair in order to better allow for his memories to take over. As it had all started in the middle of December, the Pennsylvanian weather had been the complete opposite of what it was now; dry, and bitingly cold.

* * *

><p>"Seems like it's a pretty clear cut case then…for once," Ash noted with a hint of an irritated sigh as he pulled the cover back over the recently identified corpse in front of them both.<p>

Ash was right, thankfully. The call had come in a couple of hours ago, yet the case was more or less resolved. The neighbors of the victim had called a good 15 minutes or so after the death itself, which had struck them as odd at first. Yet Blake had just returned from talking to them; allegedly, the sounds of a fight were not uncommon from this particular apartment room, and they hadn't thought to report it until the room had gone completely silent and it was apparent no one was leaving.

The two people living here were a less-than-happily married couple; the husband had a laundry list of offenses, ranging from disturbance of peace to full on assault. The wife had her own record of drug possession and petty theft. After tonight, if she was still alive, Blake could've added murder to her list.

The body of the male had been found lying on couch in the living room in a still drying pool of his own blood. Hardly a foot away was the presumed murder weapon – a common kitchen knife, naturally littered with both their fingerprints. The size of the wound matched the length of the blade from what Blake could see, but they'd have to wait for the autopsy report to be released by forensics before it could be said for certain.

It was the woman's body that was less concrete. She had been found in the bedroom, with a broken nose and blackened eye that appeared unrelated to her cause of death – which was sure to be from overdose. The injuries did, however, highly imply domestic violence; a definite motive for murder. He had debated whether it was premeditated or not with Ash for a while before winning the argument. The woman's blackened eye was already too well formed for it to have been given during the fight, the same holding true for the nasal injury. Plus, the slice on the man's neck was too even, too clean, to have been given amidst a struggle. No, in Blake's mind, his wife had finally snapped and crept behind him while he sitting on the couch, not realizing the threat until the knife was at his throat. All he had managed to do before it was slit was scream to alert the neighbors.

Though they had agreed to label the man as murdered, a consensus hadn't been reached on the woman. Liberal traces of cocaine had been found on the bedside table – too much, in Blake's mind, for it to have been an accident. The way he saw it, she had intentionally snorted too much of the white powder in order to cause the brain hemorrhage that ultimately killed her. It was also difficult to imagine anyone with an untreated broken nose willingly snorting what she must have known to be an insanely high dosage just to get a high.

Still, the important facts of the case were established. A clear motive, a determined time of death, an obvious murder weapon…and hell, an 'apprehended' criminal, considering she was already dead. In all honesty, his job was pretty much done here.

"Always nice to end a Friday without any homework, eh?" Ash's voice echoed from across the apartment room. Blake didn't know if the cheerfulness it contained was mocked or not, nor did he care to find out. Domestic violence cases always left him with a bad taste in his mouth. If the woman hadn't gone and killed herself, he'd probably have shaken her hand for purifying the world a little by killing the bastard…before handcuffing it. She sure as fuck didn't hold the moral high ground; murder was still murder.

Still wearing a slight smirk, Ash gave him an absent wave before exiting the apartment. Blake returned it without much thought as his phone began to ring. About fucking time, too – he had asked for Perry to send him the forensics results as soon as they came back.

Blake blinked in slight confusion as he didn't immediately recognize the number. It was out of state; that much he knew. _Probably some bullshit charity…_ Well, he could use the stress relief of yelling at some stupid fuck for wasting his time. With that cheery thought in mind, he hit the call button before the last ring.

"Yeah? Lieutenant Blake speaking…"

There was a slight pause before anyone answered, and in his almost-constant impatient state, Blake almost hung up the phone then and there until he made out the light sound of someone breathing.

"Hey asshole, if you're going to call just to breath into the fucking receptor, can you do it a little louder? Or at night? Because right now you're just pissin' me off instead of scaring me."

A small snort of a laugh followed his response. "…'Yah haven't changed, Blake…"

Well, he didn't need to recognize the number to figure out who _that _accent belonged to. Absently, Blake stole a glance at his watch, noting that it had been over a month since he had last seen the FBI asshole.

"Aw, callin' to wish me a Merry Christmas, Norm?"

"Uh…not quite. I'm in town though…thought maybe…we could have a few drinks…?" It took Blake a minute to realize it was an invitation – he was distracted by the agent's tone of voice. He wasn't sure if it was just the quality of the call or not, but Jayden sounded…subdued. Slurred, like someone feverishly drifting in and out of consciousness. He brushed the thought off – undoubtedly, Jayden was just talking outside. If he had whined about the cold rain during October, the kid was probably dying from the December snow.

For a moment, Blake mulled over the idea of refusing the offer, just to be a dick. But it was Friday afternoon after a murder case – he wanted to drink. And after spending the better half of the day arguing with Ash, he didn't particularly want to put up with his usual drinking buddy at the moment.

"…Sure, why not? I'm not off the clock yet….I'll call you back in an hour or so with the details, all right?"

"Okay…guess I'll see'yah then?"

"Yeep." Unceremoniously, Blake hung up the phone with a snap before placing it back into his coat pocket. Truth be told, Blake had been pointedly avoiding thinking about Norman Jayden as of late. With luck, seeing him again would somehow resolve the little issues he'd be having in regards to the agent.

Despite the initial, burning sense of loathing he felt to Jayden originally, it had lessened after the Origami case had been resolved. He was half expecting Norman to act like a jackass, flaunting the fact that he managed to end the killings almost singlehandedly. What he hadn't expected was for the agent to simply file detailed reports to aid the process of tying the loose ends of the case…and then leave, without a single mocking word.

As part of his job, Blake kept a close eye on the news. And as expected, once Jayden left Philly, the media immediately jumped on the guy's dick. But Jayden himself had refused almost every interview, every opportunity to feed his fame, until journalists eventually lost interest and abandoned him as lost potential for a good scoop. At first, that just pissed Blake off more, but when they had met up at that restaurant, Jayden had confirmed his suspicions that he honestly didn't care for being in the public eye. As far as he could see, he just wanted to be left alone to do his fucking job. Having the exact same mindset on both journalists and life in general, Blake could respect that.

It wasn't the newfound and relatively small amount of respect he had managed to find for the agent that bothered him, however. No, the change that was bothering him had come after their little scuffle in the parking lot – or rather, during. There wasn't much Blake loved more than a good fight, so he had to give the kid kudos for holding his own, considering Blake got practice in the little exercise on at least a biweekly basis. But fighting Jayden had been…different. Different in the sense that his punches spoke more of a desire to come on top instead of the usual sense of almost desperation to swiftly end another case. Different in that after the fight, he didn't feel the usual raw satisfaction in proving someone lesser than him, instead feeling…calm after Jayden accepted the loss rather graciously.

But mostly different because he had left the fight harder than a fucking rock.

He tried to justify it, of course. Blake had spent the entire fucking case wanting to beat the shit out of Jayden, so getting to actually do so…well, it wasn't too much of a stretch of the imagination to think his desire to smash his pretty boy face in a little would be strong enough to resemble arousal. Plus, fighting and sex were two highly physical activities that both implied a power struggle until one side folded. While his physical arousal might have been unprecedented in previous matches with common thugs, it was different with Jayden since he knew him personally; his want to hit him was out of sheer dislike rather that what he viewed as necessity when he used force while working. It was explainable – expected, even.

Meeting up with Jayden now would prove that, Blake felt. Besides, maybe the guy would be less of a serious asshole with some drinks in him; he might end up actually enjoying himself, if that were the case. More than anything else though, he realized as his cell went off again (this time actually displaying Perry's number on the front)…he really just needed a drink.

* * *

><p>"So how lonely do you hafta be – Not a week before Christmas and you call <em>me<em> up?" Blake gestured to himself with the top of the beer bottle, a hint of a smirk on his face. He was pacing himself, this bottle being only his second – it was far too early in the evening for him to get shitfaced just yet.

Surprisingly, the agent sitting across from him just smirked back slightly before responding. "About as lonely as you, f'ah acceptin' the invitation."

"I'm not picky about the company when I drink…or what I'm drinkin'," he replied loosely before taking another swing. Jayden actually laughed a little at that. The sound was so completely foreign, coming from the uptight bureaucrat, that Blake found himself a little pleased that he had caused it.

"Now'yah just sound like an alcoholic, Blake."

"Ahh, fuck you, kid. It's Friday and I'm off the clock…" he set the glass down before giving the man across him a quick up and down glance, noting the distinct lack of alcohol on his side of the table. "Why aren't you drinking, anyway? Not old enough yet?"

The sigh that followed his latest jeer wasn't full of the usual irritation he had come to expect from the younger man, either. When Jayden looked up again, his lips were still formed in a slight smile. "…'Yah know I'm almost thirty-five, right?"

Blake stuttered a moment, processing that new piece of information. Oh, he had seen Jayden's profile when the officer dispatch file had been posted at the precinct, but somehow he had never bothered doing the math to figure out his age. His eyes had instead focused on the accompanying picture, which had immediately set him into a fit of anger at how the FBI was sending them what looked to _him_ like a god damn kid. Even hearing his supposed age now, he couldn't believe it.

"What? Fucking…bullshit you are, you look like you're twelve." He snatched the wallet resting on the table quickly in disbelief, ignoring the other man's protests as he sought out Jayden's driver's license. Blake noted that underneath it was a gently folded piece of paper that looked entirely out of place in the otherwise professional looking piece of leather – he pulled that out too for good measure, setting the wallet back on the table as Jayden snatched it back quickly. Blake ignored this as he returned his focus back on the form of identification, reading aloud, "1977…" After a quick bit of math, he conceded, flicking the license back to the agent who returned both the ID to its proper holding as well as his wallet back to his pocket. "Well…whatever, it's all about experience anyway, asshole. When'd you join the FBI?"

Jayden's slight hesitation before answering was enough to assure Blake that he had won that argument. "…2006, but…" he finally sighed. "It took me awhile to get settled aft'ah I finished getting my degree…'nd I had to do a lot'a on the job training…"

Blake grinned a little in victory. "Fuckin' knew it…" He sat back into his chair more comfortably upon one-upping the less experienced little fuck, absently hitting the folded paper against the fingers of his opposite hand as he went on, "Joined the force almost right outta high school…must be, what, almost twenty-five years ago? I was a cop when you were still waiting for your balls to drop, so yeah, I think I'm pretty entitled to make fun of your age, _kid_."

He basked in his victory a little while longer as he watched Jayden roll his eyes and take another drink of water. "…Speaking of that, what's this, _Norman_? A fucking love note?" He waved the pressed sheet just out of his reach teasingly, enjoying himself thoroughly as Jayden choked on his water, spilling half of it down his front as he managed to swallow the rest.

Still coughing, Jayden leaned forward and tried to snatch it away. "You're a fuckin' kleptomaniac, Blake!"

"Must be something you don't want me to see, then…" he trailed off mockingly as he unfolded the paper. Jayden stopped trying to grab it away once it had been completely opened, his cheeks flashing red in embarrassment as he avoided meeting his eye.

Blake looked from him back to the paper in slight confusion. He had been expected a phone number, or an embarrassing letter…Instead, it was a drawing that appeared to have been colored by a kid. It wasn't half bad, actually…Blake could recognize the man in the center as Jayden, who looked like he had just walked out of a damn comic book, what with the lasers coming out of his stupid space goggles. Blake's eyebrows raised a little as he followed the beam to an overweight man in a police uniform, assuming it to be Scott. It wasn't until his eyes fell to the bottom of the drawing that he recognized one of the figures in the drawing as…himself, carrying the figure of a much smaller person. Realization hit him as he realized who the artist had to be.

"Did uh…Did Shaun do this?" he asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck a little as heat rushed to his face.

"…Yeah." For some reason, Jayden seemed as uncomfortable as he was about the picture.

"Well, that's…nice," he replied finally, making a move to hand it back to him.

"…It's yours, actually."

"What?" Blake blinked, glancing back up at the man who was pointedly avoiding eye contact with him again.

"Shaun gave it to me, and I, well…I made'a copy for you. Thought you might want one…"

Blake cleared his throat in shock at the gesture before nodding in acknowledgement, accompanying it with a quick, "…Thanks."

How long had it been since he had spoken that word…and actually meant it? He had certainly never uttered it to the man sitting across to him - that was for fucking sure. But the action on his part had actually warranted it. Though he did a damn good job hiding it, Blake had chosen his job for more reasons than it paying the bills and being a constructive outlet for his rather destructive nature – he did enjoy the occasional reminder of the actual meaning behind the police motto "To Protect and Serve".

Blake watched the younger man across from him with a reinforced sense of curiosity. The red in his cheeks seemed to be leaving, yet he still seemed unwilling to look back at him. Actually…_all_ the color in his face appeared to be fleeing, leaving his complexion even paler than usual. Blake's newfound interest was replaced with confusion – something not lost on Jayden as his eyes darted away, as if seeking refuge in something behind him. He went to stand up a little too quickly, knocking his empty glass off the table – with natural reflexes honed over a long career in the police field, Blake caught it easily before it could shatter below the table. He returned from beneath it just in time to see Jayden beginning to walk away.

"Whoa- hey, what the hell's wrong with you?" Blake asked in an utterly bewildered fashion, eying his now shaking drinking companion up and down as if expecting the source of the problem to display itself.

"N-nothin', I just…think I might'a caught a bug or something…" Jayden replied hurriedly without stopping his stride to the bathroom – though Blake would call it more of a 'flee' than anything else.

"God dammit, Jayden, why the hell would you invite me out to drinks if you're _fucking _sick?" he asked in disgust, scooting his chair as far away as possible as the contaminated FBI agent walked passed him.

"…S'ahrry." He just barely caught before the agent went out of earshot.

Though he was still confused at the sudden change of both Jayden's appearance and behavior, he was a little glad he now had a temporary break from him. Blake could only be so social for so long, and Jayden's quota was fast arriving.

Despite the fact that their conversation had been shockingly pleasant, it didn't fail to make Blake feel uncomfortable. Still argumentative in nature, it was more akin to the playful sort of sparring of their last encounter than anything they had shared previously. That was where the problem lied – the sexual tension was thick enough that Blake could have grabbed one of the table's knives and cut right through it. He couldn't understand how he could simultaneously want to just sit and enjoy the other man's company, smash his face into a wall, or…tear off his 'classy' suit pants and sink right into his ass– the feelings not separate, but feeding off and enhancing one another.

More to take his mind off that particular subject than anything else, Blake glanced down at Shaun's picture again. Blake allowed the smile to fully form this time around as no one was present to witness it. He picked it up and folded it gently along its existing creases from being stored in Jayden's wallet, reaching down below the table again to pull up his briefcase. God knows the agent was going to come back and knock all their shit over again – No, it'd be safer in there.

Blake's hand slid across the report he had taken home from earlier to work on as he set the picture in. His intention was to put it aside until he got home, but the temptation to work was ingrained into his system at this point. He thus pulled the file out and began to take advantage of the moment of peace to read over his own overview of the case thus far. As usual, he found himself completely submerged in the task as he blocked the rest of the world out.

"What was the woman's cause of death?" Jayden asked curiously. Blake jumped slightly as he just then realized the man had likely long since returned and had been reading over his shoulder.

"…Overdose," he mumbled in response, putting the report back into the folder. Jayden nodded lightly; despite the gesture of agreement, Blake found himself on guard at the man's curiosity. His rational side reminded him that Jayden wasn't even _on_ this case, yet his defensive tendencies to any perceived threat was such a dominant trait in his personality that civility and even logic were shifted aside.

"Mm…" Jayden returned to his seat, and Blake noticed as he did so that the neck and sleeves of his jacket were wet, as if he had just carelessly splashed water all over his face. While still paler than what he considered 'healthy', Jayden's face had regained some color. He ignored all this as he went to respond to the unspoken challenge to his conclusion.

"What?" he snapped.

"Just curious that you'd label it suicide," Norman blinked in response at the sudden hostility. "If she had a record of drug offenses, it's possible she just took'a heaviah dose than normal as a result of what happened. She might not've meant tah-"

"–…Norman, who_ really_ gives a shit if she meant to or not? She killed her own husband, that's what concerns me. I don't care if her intention was to get high as fuck to forget about it, or kill herself to avoid dealing with it – the fact is, she did it, and now she's fucking dead."

The words were harsh – intentionally so, as Blake just wanted the kid to _drop it._ But he should have known the bastard wouldn't back down after his analytical bullshit of a view point had been stated. Norman's lips tightened before he opened his mouth to respond, the friendly smile from earlier gone. "…I'm just saying there's a difference between overdose and suicide – legally speaking, I mean. If 'yah put it as suicide, insurance companies might refuse to-"

"Oh, _of course!" _ Blake interrupted with a cold laugh. "I forgot I was dealing with a _fucking _Fed. How could I forget about the _financial _part of this! Tell me, Jayden, are you seriously so removed from the real world after sittin' behind a desk all day that that's all you can _fucking_ think about? I thought killing a man might've dragged you out of that mindse-"

"_Fuck you_, Blake!" The slam of Norman's fist into the wooden table shook their drinks, almost making the glass containers fall to the floor. Blake eyed the shaking beverages for a moment, surprised upon looking up that Jayden was shaking just as hard again as he stood up and began to walk away. He stopped for a moment, reaching into his pockets unsuccessfully the first few times. Eventually, he managed to pull out his wallet and throw a few bills on the table before turning to leave the bar entirely.

Blake watched the scene in silent fury before a small cough from behind him announced the presence of their waiter. The young man shifted uncomfortably – apparently, the guy wasn't used to drunken arguments just yet. He should be grateful Jayden at least had been sober to pay before leaving.

"…Just put it on my tab," he sighed, not in the mood to deal with _another_ inexperienced little shit in his present state of being. With a final glance that quite plainly stated it wasn't up for negotiation, Blake turned and followed Jayden's route out of the bar and into the parking lot. To his surprise the agent was still present, huddled against the outside wall of the building, akin to how Blake had found him last time. At that moment, Blake would have loved to be the one to throw the first punch this time around. This time, however, he'd make sure it wasn't a playful fight so much as a complete beat down.

This plan was squashed before it could come to fruition once the two met eyes. The blood shot look Jayden's contained screamed of an entirely unstable physical state. This indicator was confirmed hardly seconds later as he attempted to support himself without the building's aid. Time seemed to stop the next moment as Blake realized what was going to inevitably happen next - and he was just as confused as Jayden appeared to be when he quickly stepped forward just in time to shoot his arm out to prevent Jayden from falling flat on his face. He yanked the arm back to set him against the wall again, keeping it there until Jayden managed to steady himself.

Blake let out a frustrated sigh that was more like to a hiss than anything else as he pulled his arm away, turning away from the fragile man entirely as he ran a hand through his hair. "Just a little bug, huh?" As he turned, he noted that Jayden was doing his best to not look at him.

"Look, I-… It's gonna pass in a second, so let's just forget about this, 'ahkay?"

Blake's hands were clasping Jayden's shoulders before he even realized he had moved. He wasn't sure if his initial intention was to drive him into the wall, but he instead drug the man closer. Despite the glossy look in Jayden's eyes, he could easily make out confusion in them as well, in addition to something he was pretty sure to be humiliation. Just like last time, the close contact mixed with the high aggression levels of both parties sent mixed signals throughout his body – especially in his groin, where he could feel the beginnings of an erection forming. More in frustration with his own emotions than Jayden's behavior, he tightened his grip on the man's arms, his nails digging past the coat into the soft flesh it protected. Jayden jerked upward in his grip with a small noise of protest; the almost feminine sound was completely new, coming from him. It only made Blake more confused – and thus more _irritated _– as he grew harder.

It was Jayden's previously slight shaking gaining strength that brought Blake back to why he was grabbing him in the first place. Droplets of blood, small at first, began to steadily drip from his nose as his legs started to give way.

"What…_Norman!_ What the_ fuck_ is wrong with you?"

God, the guy could be having a fucking seizure or something and he was standing here getting stiff about it – he may not particularly like Jayden, but there was obviously something physically wrong with him. And…well, the whole bar had seen the two of them together, so if he up and died in the middle of the night, he'd probably be taken in for questioning about it. With a shove forward, Blake removed one of his arms as he used the other to half-drag Jayden back to his car. If it wasn't for the stress of the situation, he'd almost feel like his fucking date, opening the car door and making sure he safely got inside.

"We're going to the hospital. I don't buy your shit for a second – and the only way I'll ever be involved with _you_ dying is if I think I can get away with it."

"I can't go to the hospital, Blake…" It sounded more like a plea than a fact, though a part of Blake had to admit he was rather hoping for that answer. He didn't particularly care for the idea of spending his entire day off tomorrow getting 'interviewed' by the FBI as to why one of their currently most famous agents was in the hospital, either.

"All right…" he began, seeking for a compromise that would work on both their favors, "if I drive you to your hotel instead, will you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you?"

The agent bit his lip in hesitation, which immediately set him off. "Listen, dipshit, it's that or the hospital."

"…I don't have a hotel yet," Jayden admitted after a moment.

"Well, I…Wait, _what_?" The urge to punch the younger man across the face despite his feeble state was growing almost too powerful to resist. In order to fight the temptation, Blake closed his fists around the steering wheel tightly.

"I didn't really-…I kinda just…drove up here. I went to Ethan's first, but it turns out they're at his parent's for Christmas, so I called you…"

If Blake gripped the wheel any tighter, he'd probably break the entire thing off. He was actually tempted to do so, just so he'd have something to beat Jayden across the head with. Instead of responding, he turned the keys in the ignition and took the car out of park with entirely too much force.

"…Where are we goin'?" Jayden asked in both confusion and a tiny bit of panic. Pressing his lips together into a tight grin that illustrated sheer anger instead of amusement, Blake responded without looking at him.

"My place."

* * *

><p>Blake stood back after pulling open his front door, ushering Jayden to enter. The meaning behind the act was mostly so he could make sure the agent stayed within his line of vision in case his stride became too unsteady again – Jayden had drifted in between the stages of consciousness on the drive here, hardly saying a word. Despite his assurance that "it'd pass", he appeared, in Blake's eyes, even worse off.<p>

However, as he shut the door behind him without breaking eye contact with Norman's retreating back, Blake realized the interaction would feel more at home between a kidnapper and their captive. The thought made his groin twitch again in protest – once more, he ignored it as Jayden turned unsteadily a little from across the house to shoot him a questioning look.

"…Sit down before you hurt yourself," he called down the hall in a bored tone of voice as he hung his coat up. The sound of leather shifting told him without looking that Jayden must have complied, which he couldn't help but find a little amusing – how many times had the kid blatantly disobeyed him during the Origami case?

"Well, start talkin'" Blake ordered as he took a seat on the couch by the agent, the cushion in the middle separating them. Propping his elbow against the armrest, he turned so he was completely facing the man, ready to read his body language for any lies.

"….What'yah wanna know, Blake?" Jayden sighed in response. He hadn't removed his coat, instead wrapping himself into the article of clothing more for comfort from the cold – or perhaps as a subconscious movement of self-defense.

"What the fuck do you think? I want to _know_ what you're lying about. I don't know how a cold works for you assholes down in Washington, but _here_ we don't…we don't bleed from our noses…So you're going to tell me the truth…or I'm dragging your ass back to the car and driving straight to the hospital and you can tell them. 'Can't guarantee they won't have to treat you for a concussion and some broken bones first."

It was only because he was watching Jayden's face carefully for reactions that he managed to note it had grown even paler after the threat. He grabbed his shoulders shakily and pulled himself in to a strange sort of self-hug, the dazed blur in his eyes growing more noticeable by the second. It was more out of genuine concern than a threat that Blake leaned forward to push him back into the couch. A small bit of panic was present on Jayden's face as he took the contact the wrong way, slowly – unwillingly – moving his head up to meet his eyes.

"…After the case…" he mumbled, his speech so slurred that Blake had to lean forward to catch anything, "I uh…sometimes get…panic attacks. I don't know…My vision goes out, I start shakin'…Sometimes I get nosebleeds, or vomit…I guess they're pretty bad," he finished somewhat lamely. Something clicked in Blake's brain as he remembered how Jayden had appeared at the restaurant; when he had first walked up to them, Jayden looked legitimately fucked up. He had asked Mars lowly - so Shaun wouldn't hear -what the hell was wrong with him, but he hadn't received more than a shrug for an answer. Apparently, it had been a mystery to Mars too.

But the symptoms Jayden had been exhibiting so far – with the exception of his nose bleeding – weren't all that different from what Shaun had suffered through the first couple of weeks after he brought him to the hospital. Shaun's were mostly triggered by things that forced him to remember those long days and nights in the grate; specifically, rain water and police officers. With Jayden, it was likely caused by a hike in blood pressure – a response to any type of stressful situation.

"…Makes sense. So, what, the FBI doesn't give you good enough health insurance that you can get medicated for that shit?" Blake sneered. He meant to just insult him for his ineptness to just go to a doctor – yet at the words, Jayden stopped shaking entirely, instead sitting still as if the weather outside had frozen him.

"…Jayden?"

"I…I am on medication, actually. It's not…helping…"Jayden trailed off with a bitter laugh. Something about the ambiguity of his answer made Blake actually not want to push the envelope – he had interrogated enough people at this point to know that doing so would only cause Jayden to close up.

"So… why don't you just talk to your provider? See if they can prescribe you something stronger…"

"That…wouldn't help. It just fights the symptoms, not the problem. Trust me; I'm better off just lettin' 'em pass..."

For a long moment, Blake silently considered everything Jayden had said to this point. It was obvious the kid wasn't being entirely truthful in his answers, but they seemed to fall into place too well to be completely false. It'd be an interesting event under different, less potentially life threatening circumstances – a match between two men whom were absolute experts in dealing with lies, albeit their methods of exposure differed greatly.

"…You know what I think, Norman?" Blake paused, not so much to let Jayden answer if not to organize his thoughts. He could feel all the pent up hatred for the man in front of him rise to the surface – rather like a volcanic eruption. The words began to flow uncontrollably like lava, seeking to destroy everything in its path.

"I think you're a _fucking _idiot. You're so fucking caught up in your job, other people… everything except yourself, when _you're_ the god damn problem. You think the FBI wants someone workin' for them that could pass out at any given minute? You think Shaun would like to see his little idol puking all over himself in public? Most of all, do you think_ I_ want to tend to your ailing ass? If you hadn't shown up, I'd be happily passed out on this couch right now, but instead I have to babysit a guy I barely fucking know, all because his priorities are so fucked up that he's stopped giving a shit about himself.

"You wanna know what I thought after our fight? 'Well, fuck me, the kid actually wants to improve himself.' I was so used to you acting like you were fucking Boy Wonder all the time, unable to admit you're the same shit as the rest of us.

"But now look at you – you look fuckin' pathetic. Maybe your medication doesn't work – fine. But you were at least right about one thing; it'd only help the symptoms. You need to get rid of the problem yourself."

Blake took a moment to breathe in deeply, just as a dawning look of comprehension seemed to take over Jayden's face. The small shot of curiosity this action brought wasn't enough to quell his desire to continue ranting, however, as he opened his mouth to begin anew.

"Why do you have panic attacks? Is it because you killed Scott?

"…No, if I have you pinned right, you're still fuckin' hung up over Williams. You need to get over that shit. Yeah…you shot him, and he probably didn't deserve it. But it happened, and unless those magical glasses of yours give your tears healing powers, all your crying isn't going to bring the guy back. So why don't you _man the fuck up_ and get over it?"

"…'Yah right."

Hearing the admission coming from the cocky asshole should have been a defining moment in his life. One he could capture on video and replay whenever he felt he needed a quick ego boost, or just for a good laugh. What it _wasn't _supposed to do be was absolutely infuriating. Yet that was the only emotion that filled Blake at that particular moment. There was no doubt in his mind that the words were spoken sincerely, but it wasn't with a sense of humility. No, he had sunken far below humbleness, the words dripping instead of self-loathing.

"Well…I know I am, but you're-…you're missing the point here completely," Blake sputtered slightly before taking a deep breath to regain his composure. "Don't pull that self-pitying _shit _on me, Jayden!"

"No, Blake, because you're_ fucking right! _I never thought I'd say this, but you've totally got it this time. And what a _thing _to be right about, the guy you couldn't stand since day one turns out to be a-…a..."

"A _what,_ Jayden?"

"I…I don't know, Blake, you tell me! You're the expert at insulting oth'ah people!"

"Fine, let me help you! I can add it to the list of things you can't do by your-fucking-self. You're a cowardly, miserable, self-pitying little_ pussy_ - and somehow, all at the same time, you manage to be a cocky son of a bitch that thinks his shit doesn't stink. I don't know how you do it! It's a god damn miracle. Most of all, though, you're a waste of fucking potential." He actually stopped listing off the endless amount of insults he had stored away for Jayden personally when he caught the look on his face again. Shock.

"You want me to keep going? I can do this all night, asshole!" Blake reached forward and grabbed the startled man by his shirt, yanking Jayden back with him as he leaned back.

"…Nah, I uh…I think I got the general idea, Cartah." The sudden use of his first name almost made him drop the agent in surprise. "'Yah right…again. Well, only on that last part, enehway," he added dryly. "It's not about Nathaniel …well, not really. I know what I hafta do to stop 'em…I'm not gonna like it very much, but…I'll do it."

The ambiguity of his answer wasn't lost on Blake, yet despite that fact he felt for the first time today that the younger man was being completely honest with him. Still, he had to be sure it was for the right reason. "…Are you saying this because you genuinely want to fix yourself, or is it because you think I'm going to strangle you otherwise?" he demanded, shaking his grip slightly in emphasis.

Jayden blinked – only now, apparently, taking into account Blake's hands gripping his shirt so dangerously close to his neck. "…Now? Both."

In spite of himself, Blake couldn't hold back a short laugh as he released Jayden, pushing him back into the couch. He leaned back into his side of the furniture with an exhale of relief more than anything else, as if he had just finished a particularly satisfying jog and was seeking to relax. As he shifted his hips in order to seat himself more comfortably, he realized his body had received an entirely different message from his brain.

He had an erection again.

Blake quickly tore his eyes away from it, praying against logic that Jayden wouldn't notice. A surprised cough from across the couch immediately proved these hopes false as his gaze unwillingly made its way to Jayden's face. His cheeks, so ordinarily drained of color, were now a slight pink from embarrassment at the awkward situation. However, his eyes spoke of a certain perplexity – as if the whole thing was a puzzle piece he wasn't quite sure where to place.

"…Well," Jayden laughed softly, as if to alleviate his own discomfort. "I'd say this explains why you're always screamin' at people at the precinct, but…I don't rememb'ah this happening before…"

"Why, were you fucking looking?" Blake challenged, trying to turn the tables. Jayden just laughed again lightly before shaking his head, the tiniest of smiles still firmly planted on his face. Blake longed to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off his face, but there was no feasible way he could deny that his hard-on had absolutely nothing to do with him. Awkwardness, shame, humiliation…all of those emotions were present, but more than anything else, Blake felt a sense of fear of that his image – his very _persona _– was being attacked. He wasn't used to being put on the defensive. Even before he became a cop, he was never the person cornered. The only thing he could think to do was put himself back on the offensive.

"All right…let's_ pretend_ for a moment it was because of you. What would you do about it?" Blake asked in a sputtered way, speaking mostly off the top of his head as he sought to throw the subject off himself. Jayden merely raised his eyebrows slightly, making a heat caused by both anger and shame take Blake's face.

"What would_ I_ do? Nev'ah saw you as the type that didn't want'tah be in control…" Jayden trailed off loosely in amusement, his eyes lazily looking him up and down before resting on his chest. Before Blake could respond, a sharp yank on his tie brought him closer to the smartass agent. It took him several seconds before he realized the action wasn't to egg him _on _– Jayden was taking the piece of clothing _off_.

An urgent sense of panicked fear filled Blake now – not with the fact that his clothes were being taken off, but that Jayden was the one making it happen. Not himself. He quickly shoved Jayden off, back into the couch's armrest where he pinned him down and sought to tear off his clothes instead.

Blake could remember quite a few occasions during the case where he felt like a caged zoo animal when dealing with the younger man. Like the bars around an exhibit, his normal, violent approach to dealing with what he saw as "burdens" during cases was confined by Jayden's federal status, meaning he could only watch fumingly as the seemingly 'superior' man worked without regard to his own methods, except to scorn them. It wasn't entirely unlike a child sticking his hand into the bars, just teasingly out of reach of getting horribly bitten by the beast on the other side.

Now? Jayden hadn't just stuck his hand into his cage – he had jumped right over the bars into it. He'd just have to deal with the fucking consequences.

With a newfound resolve, Blake accepted what was about to happen. Part of his subconscious was still waging war against him, but he ignored the voice of 'reason' in his head screaming at him that he had to suppress his urges. He didn't want to think about the implications behind both his feelings and his actions - instead, he latched on to the one solid fact that he knew to be true. Right now, he wanted to fuck Jayden into his couch until neither of them could move.

Blake looked down in slight surprise to find his clothes carelessly lying on the floor by Jayden's – apparently, he had been too caught up in stripping him down and internally battling with himself to notice the agent had still been fighting to do the same.

Giving the defiant little bastard a warning look, Blake pushed him back into the couch again before getting off him entirely. Jayden raised his eyebrows again, this time in confusion. Blake ignored it entirely as he left the living room, moving across his house in long, rapid strides until he reached the medicine cabinet in his bathroom. Moving his more commonly used items aside, he managed to find the small tube of lubricant he had left-over from a previous relationship.

It was rather old and a generic store brand kind, but it was all he had – and Jayden would be god damn happy with what he gave him. The only reason he was going through the trouble at all was because _he_ didn't want to experience the burning, painful friction that was anal sex without some sort of lubrication. As if to prove this to himself, he squeezed some of the liquid into his hand, rolling it around in his palm before taking his length into hand. Shivering slightly from the pleasurable cold against the otherwise hot organ, he moved his hand up and down to evenly distribute the liquid before returning back to the living room.

Jayden was still lying on his couch, though he shifted into a sitting position upon seeing his return. Without looking at him, Blake threw the tube in his general direction.

"Hurry up," he ordered coldly, doing his damn best to keep all traces of the lust and excitement building up inside of him out of his voice. Jayden blinked in surprise at the lubricant that had landed on his lap, sitting up fully before taking it in hand.

"Well, least'yah know this much…Must not be your first time doin' something like this, huh?" Jayden mused, flipping the tube through his fingers before throwing it lightly from hand to hand.

It was obviously meant as an insult to his sexuality, but the force behind the remark was greatly hindered by the sheer uncertainty in Jayden's voice. It was because of this that Blake merely smiled at the jab before leaving the room entirely. He didn't want to watch the kid apply the stuff – why the hell would he want to watch Jayden stick his fingers up his ass?

_I don't know, why do you want to do this at all, faggot?_

The harsh thought was immediately answered by his dick throbbing slightly from exposure to the cold air of his house, otherwise neglectfully unstimulated. Blake thought he had managed to silence the voice of opposition inside him – but it was something that he couldn't quell entirely, no matter how hard he tried to suppress it. The best solution he could come up with was stopping all thought processes entirely.

_You know what? Just __**stop**__. Stop thinking about it. You accepted his invitation earlier because you wanted to drink...And…you're going to accept this one, because now you want to fuck. It's that simple._

"Uh…Blake? It's done…" Blake could easily note that his voice didn't sound nearly as cocky as earlier – this was confirmed seconds later when he reentered the room and saw the uncertain look from earlier remaining plastered across Jayden's face – it was hard to believe he had been the one who initiated the whole thing. More than likely, for some misguided reason, he must have thought he wouldn't be the one on the receiving end. That assumption actually gave Blake the boost of confidence he needed to begin; after all, apparently he had some roles to set straight.

His renewed vigor must have somehow been visible, as Jayden met his eyes before opening his mouth to speak. Whether he was trying to object, or reason his way out of the situation – Blake never found out, as he shot his hand out to cover Jayden's mouth, muffling the sounds that followed completely. The hateful glare that followed made him laugh as he positioned himself right up to Jayden's opening. With the lightest of smirks, Blake shoved himself in.

The sheer amount of resistance his cock was met with sent a wave of pleasure throughout his body, followed by a moan he had no hope of subduing. He barely registered as he pushed himself all the way in that Jayden wasn't making a sound – he was so fucking tight, it was hurting _him_, so how could he…?

Blake realized with a start that the pleasure had been effectively masking a sharp pain until that point. His prior musing was immediately answered as sharp teeth, previously digging into the hand he had stupidly left covering the agent's mouth, withdrew from their now bleeding indentures. With a curse, Blake yanked his hand away, small droplets of blood falling all the while as Jayden's now-free mouth parted open to allow the previously trapped groans to escape. The act was probably more instinctual in response to the sudden pain than malicious, but Blake shoved that thought aside as he established a rhythm of thrusting that was neither slow nor gentle.

"Mmph – Slow…down…_Blake_!" Jayden managed to utter in between thrusts, moving his arms behind his back for support. The gesture pushed Blake closer, and he didn't bother masking the look of disgust that followed due to the intimacy it provided.

"Get the hell off me," Blake snarled as he tried to remove himself from Jayden's vice grip unsuccessfully, doing nothing to soften the strength or speed of his movements in and out. The hands gripping his back so firmly shifted slightly. At first, Blake thought they were obediently moving back to retreat to his sides once more – until he felt rather long fingernails sink into his skin deeply before Jayden yanked them back in a single, fluid motion. The salt from the sweat on his back mixed with the broken skin, stinging the freshly made wounds painfully. Blake couldn't confine the initial yelp of pain, but shoved his face forward into Jayden's exposed neck to hide the smaller groans that followed. Seeking vengeance, Blake traced down Jayden's neck with his lips before capturing the soft skin where his shoulder met his neck…and biting down harshly, drawing blood.

With a pained cry of his own, Jayden lurched his body forward in response. The noise of discomfort quickly morphed into pleasure as he inadvertently pushed himself back into the perfect angle just as Blake shoved himself forward. The reaction made Blake grin with satisfaction, in part because of how the walls surrounding him tighten down even more in response, sending his body a shot of pleasure. He grabbed Jayden's waist to steady him, in order to maintain the position that brought him so much satisfaction. Despite his bruise-inducingly firm hold, he felt the hips under his hands begin to move forward to match his thrusts.

Blake found himself not caring as Jayden pushed against his back to bring him closer for leverage, as the pleasure steadily building distracted him far too much. He had a feeling the action meant Jayden wasn't far off from climax either. Blake pulled him off the armrest of the couch by his sides while moving his hips upward so his back remained lying down. All throughout, Jayden was doing his best to continue pushing against him with absolutely no sense of restriction or timing.

It only took a few more friction filled thrusts forward from both parties before Jayden came with a masculine moan that sent shivers down Blake's spine. The angle he had set up ensured that none of the results reached him, instead splattering all over his stomach and chest. The sight of Jayden laying beneath him, covered in his own cum as he panted in effort to continue matching his movements, was almost too much to take in. Just as the pleasure finally became too much, one last devious idea popped in to Blake's head. He pulled out quickly, just in time for his semen to land all over Jayden's torso, mixing with his own.

Blake very nearly found himself collapsing in to the mess he and Jayden had just created as Jayden released his hold on his back with an irritated sigh. Bringing his arms back so his elbows were propping him up, Jayden moved a hand to the sticky mixture of both their fluids, eyeing the small quantity that stuck to his fingertips with a mixture of subdued rage and open amusement.

After a moment of surprisingly relaxed silence as both men took in exactly what had just taken place, Jayden shifted his way out from underneath him before meeting his eyes with a dry expression that held no regret. "…I'm gonna take the liberty of borrowin' your shower…"

Blake almost couldn't believe himself as he returned the look without lamentation either. "Why?" he asked teasingly as he leaned in to lick the drying blood off his shoulder. "That's a good look for you."

* * *

><p>Even Blake found himself shivering slightly as the snowflakes hit his bare shoulders - since he had only gone out to his backyard for a quick smoke, he had only bothered pulling on a pair of clean boxers. The cold breeze bit against the exposed scratches from earlier as a result. Even though it caused him quite a deal of discomfort, he couldn't help but simultaneously be amused by them.<p>

Blake turned, the cigarette still dangling from his lips slightly, at the sound of his sliding glass door opening. Jayden walked out and closed it behind him – he too was also incredibly underdressed for the weather, draped only in a towel around his waist.

"I give you a minute before you go back inside bitching," Blake estimated with a teasing undertone before lightly tapping off excess ash from his cigarette.

"…I don't think I'll take you up on that." The laugh that followed sounded a little forced, though Blake wasn't sure if it was from the cold or what had just happened.

"Actually…" Jayden made a move to open the door again before Blake shot his arm out to drag him to an empty seat.

"We need to talk."

"We can't do that inside?" Jayden grumbled as he shoved several inches of layered snow from the empty lawn chair before lowering himself down – immediately jumping back up as he winced in pain. Blake didn't even try to subdue the snigger that followed as Jayden glared at him hatefully.

"Nah, the cold might make you actually get to the point…Might get some actual honest answers outta'yah for once."

"Well, fire away then," Jayden sighed.

There was a moment's silence, and Blake took advantage of it to raise his cigarette to his lips and take another drag. After blowing out the smoke, he slowly turned to better face the agent beside him.

"So…what the hell happened?"

"You're asking _me_?" Jayden sputtered in disbelief.

"Yeah, because you _started_ it."

Jayden didn't seem to have a response to that, shifting around uncomfortably before opting to alleviate the accusation by firing one of his own. "…You finished it."

Rather than set him off the defensive, Blake laughed, releasing small puffs of smoke from his lips as a result. Jayden glared at him again before averting his eyes, bending down slightly to gather some of the fallen snow from the chair. He played with the frozen powder absently, rolling it around in his hands as he appeared to be searching for an answer.

"I don't…really know, Blake. I think I just needed a release…a…an outlet. You know…the stress relief…endorphins being released…" Jayden's teeth had begun to chatter together, making it even more difficult to make out what he was saying than usual. The answer was rather incoherent, but Blake accepted it for now. God knows he didn't have a better one.

"So it wasn't because you harbored a deep, suppressed attraction for me?" he asked lightly, more to drag the conversation away from anything serious than anything else. It took him a moment to reason why he felt a sudden sensation of stinging pain and cold, before snow and water trickled down his bearded face. One brief glance to the look of guilt and amused uncertainty on Jayden's face – added with the fact that the snow previously in his hand was gone – made this particular mystery easy to solve. Blake slowly set his still burning cigarette down before standing up…and lunging towards the agent, dragging him down with him into the several feet of snow below. Ignoring the almost violent shivering and whines of the practically naked man underneath him, Blake leaned forward to speak directly into his ear.

"So…you wanna do this again sometime?"

* * *

><p>Still smiling slightly from the memory, Carter gave his head a slight shake before hanging it back lazily. Their relationship had certainly changed since then – the aching in his ass was evidence enough of that. At least his question had been answered by relaying the memory over in his head.<p>

Norman had wanted to have sex, and even after it became obvious he wasn't going to be in charge for a change, he had still consented. _Well…he let it happen, anyway, _Carter mentally corrected with a grin. As to _why_, Norman had blatantly said he didn't know. Even a control-freak psychologist like him could admit that some feelings, some actions…simply weren't explainable. Analyzing the former had never been Carter's area of expertise, and he had long since come to terms with that. Analyzing the latter after they had taken place was not only pointless, but impossible, as they weren't the results of conscious decision making so much as life catching you in the right moment under the right circumstances. One just had to live with the consequences.

Carter felt he could easily do that, even after what had happened. Especially under the newfound realization that despite their upbringing, careers, and basic fundamental viewpoints…they weren't terribly different. If Norman could maintain a level of dignity even after taking it up the ass…Well then, fuck, it couldn't be that hard.

The very idea of telling Norman about his acceptance of the role reversal didn't even occur to him. After all, he hadn't even told him the curiosity to try it existed. The reason why was fairly simple - to the two of them, words were an obstacle. That wasn't to say they couldn't enjoy one another's company or have a decent, meaningful conversation – that much was obvious, as they easily could pass hours together doing jack-shit at his house. But inevitably, their dialogue always ended in a disagreement of some sort that had to be resolved nonverbally; either through a fight, sex, or a messy combination of the two that left them both exhausted yet pleased.

It might not have been the healthiest relationship in the world, but as Carter eyed the freshly wrapped bullet wound on his shoulder before letting his gaze linger next on the dwindled cigarette beneath him, he reminded himself that there was a reason the term was called "fatal attraction".

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, yeah, if you're wondering why Norman didn't just tell the truth about triptocaine withdrawals…Well, A) I kinda prefer the idea of him battling his addiction on his own (not that I don't think it's potentially a very good plot point that'd bring the two together), and B) in previous chapters I had already pretty much established Blake not knowing about triptocaine and Jayden already bringing it somewhat under control.**

**Anyway, I apologize for how absurdly long this is ._.**


	8. Classy

**Author's Note: Well, this Labor Day Weekend was spent watching Firefly, playing Dark Cloud, and writing porn. At one point, all three were happening at once (which is much harder than it sounds, I assure you). Overall, I'd write it off as a success ;) **

**By the way, for anyone interested, I've posted a few short Blayden drabbles on my livejournal. The username is muffomaniac (Don't judge, Dexter's Lab was a great show), and it should show up if you search it since I made the entry public. I think.**

* * *

><p>The absence of heat and weight on the mattress told Norman without opening his eyes that he was alone in his bed. It wasn't unusual for Carter to be up quite a bit earlier than him – the sudden stoppage of ARI use allowed for his mind to completely rest for a change, resulting in him sleeping like a newborn baby as of late. Occasionally he'd wake up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat from withdrawals, but those occurrences were becoming less and less frequent with time. And thankfully, they had never occurred whilst sharing a bed with the police lieutenant.<p>

Norman winced when he saw his bedside clock flashing that it was already mid-morning. He really didn't make a habit of this, and he hated that he was undoubtedly giving Blake that impression. Normally, he was the early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guy; it was something his job required, for starters, but even on his days off he never slept past 8. Until Blake came around – just being around the cop made him lazier.

Still, if he laid around any longer, Carter would probably drag his ass out of bed by force. Norman didn't particularly like the sound of that idea; so despite how lovely of an idea rolling over and going back to sleep sounded, he forced himself off the mattress with a groan, stretching out his neck and back. As the latter audibly cracked, he absently thanked God that triptocaine didn't store itself in spinal fluid. He was incredibly pleased with his progress on the drug so far, having been clean for almost three months; it'd be an unfortunate setback.

He had just begun brushing his teeth when a faint, though familiar sound echoed from his living room. For a moment, he stopped the brushing in order to better make out the noise – it sounded like…A Mario game. With a snort he turned on the faucet, drowning out the cheery music; Blake must have found the rather sizable box of video games behind his TV.

When Norman had first started weaning himself off ARI, he had used every legal way he could think of to battle the urges to escape into the device – at times, it was even harder than fighting his triptocaine addiction. One of the methods he had found to be at least semi-effective were video games. Though nowhere near on an ARI scale, it did succeed in allowing him to immerse himself in an alternative reality for long periods of time, without the rather unfortunate side effect of bleeding from both eyes. However, he had eventually realized wasting away playing games after work wasn't exactly the most productive or healthy use of his time either. Norman had long since admitted that he had an addictive personality – when he found something he enjoyed, he immersed himself into it with almost mad devotion. His very job was an example of this, if the drug and ARI abuse wasn't enough. As of late, however, he had found a new "hobby"; exercise.

The endorphin release after a long run, while not as powerful as drugs, was nonetheless an addicting rush of chemicals in his body that left him both relaxed and sated. He found himself increasing the time and distance every time, in order to achieve the same intensity of the runner's high. It was almost comical, how similar it was to his drug addiction – and he rather doubted his knees would appreciate the long distance, high intensity runs in the future. Still, it was without a doubt the healthiest addiction he had found to date.

_Maybe I should vary the work outs more…Start lifting…Yeah, and then I'd be able to kick that old man's ass. _

The very thought made him chuckle after spitting the toothpaste into the sink – Blake of all people, losing to him in a fight. Forget the physical dependencies – that sort of satisfaction was far more motivating. To see the ego driven maniac completely humbled would be the best moment of his life, without a doubt. He had caught glimpses of such behavior the other night – but just that. Glimpses. There had to be some way to dish out a piece of humble pie to the bastard; give him a taste of his own medicine for a change. He just had to find it.

_There's gotta be a way to break that son of a bitch…Maybe if I asked, he'd spot me?...Nah, he'd probably let the weights fall on me._

In spite of the rather painful thought, a small smile tugged at his lips as he began to wash his face. No doubt, Carter probably lifted in his free time. There was simply no way he could throw people around like rag dolls without even getting winded otherwise. Norman made a mental note to ask him later; sparring with him had been surprisingly fun, so he didn't doubt that exercising could potentially be a nice way of passing time together. Especially since he was considerably younger – it'd be another opportunity for him to beat the man at something.

_I'm not sure I'd actually __**win **__though…That asshole has stamina, if sex is any indicator…_Heat rushed to his face at the realization that they already _did _exercise with one another, in a technical sense. He splashed cold water into his face as if to drown the thought before grabbing his towel and rubbing his face a little too vigorously. Great. Being around Blake just wasn't making him lazier; it was turning him into a fucking sex maniac. He just hoped he was having similar effects on the violent police lieutenant. God knows Carter could use some of _his_ habits rubbing off on him.

Norman amused himself at the thought of a mellower, soft-spoken Blake calmly asking a suspected criminal about his alibi as he left his bathroom, putting on a clean pair of briefs before slipping on a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He had long since given up on getting Blake to abandon his brutal tactics, not that he'd ever admit to it – at times he felt bad for the residents of Philadelphia, but there were some old dogs that simply refused to learn new tricks. And in Blake's case, said dog would tear the throat out of anyone who tried.

Upon entering his living room, Norman found that his earlier musings were correct. He stood silently in the doorway as he took in the highly amusing sight of Lieutenant Carter Blake biting his lower lip in frustration as he continuously tried and failed to make a wall jump in Mario 64. Each failure and subsequent loss of health as Mario plummeted back onto the ground below made his grin widen until he was unable to stifle a small laugh. Carter paused the game and turned to throw him an irritable glance before turning around to restart.

"Something funny, asshole?"

_You mean oth'ah than the fact that there's a 40-somethin' year old man on my couch playing Nintendo?_

"No need'tah be embarrassed, Blake…This stuff's just before your time, is all," Norman teased as he strolled towards his couch and rested his arms on its back.

Carter snorted before replying, tilting his head back lazily to meet his eyes. "What, and it isn't for you?"

Norman smirked slightly before shaking his head. "This," he paused, gesturing towards the TV screen, "came out when I was a teenager, Cartah." The mocking smirk only grew as he did the mathematical calculation again in his head, this time with Carter's birth year; he'd have been in his late 20s. He decided he'd keep that piece of information to himself.

"…Doesn't explain why you still have it," he countered, changing the direction of his argument.

"I'm not the one playin' it," Norman replied just as quickly. To his surprise, Carter actually laughed a little at that.

"I had to do something while I waited for your ass to wake up," he responded easily. "Why do you still have all this shit, anyway?"

Norman paused thoughtfully, searching for the best answer. As usual when the man lightly touched upon topics closely related with ARI or Triptocaine, he went with the response that was at least partially truthful. It made him feel a little less guilty about lying to someone he was beginning to legitimately trust – plus, it was so much easier to remember his lies that way. "I brought it all outta storage for Shaun…Was gonna give it to 'em next time we saw each other." That was actually almost completely true; once he made the decision to stop playing games as well, he figured he'd put his considerable collection to good use as a wedding present of sorts to Shaun.

"Why, so he can become a reclusive little shit like you?"

"Reclusive?" Norman repeated incredulously. He had been on the receiving end of a series of different insults by the cop, but reclusive was a first.

"Yeah- you spent more time in that damn office than anywhere else. Never mind how _swimmingly_ you got along with everyone in the precinct…" Carter trailed off, leaning back into the couch in a relaxed sort of way that demonstrated he was confident he was in the right.

"Oh, right, I for'ghat how _warmly_ you all received me. 'Can't imagine why I didn't want'tah interact with all of you."

"Isn't it your job to see things through other people's perspectives? Because to me, you looked an awful lot like a cocky bastard fresh out of college, comin' in and telling me how to do my job. Then, after two wild goose chases, you let our prime suspect go before sneaking off and actually finding the Origami Killer…without telling anyone else about your little revelation." His tone only carried minimal traces of anger – they'd already had this argument what must have been a thousand times to date. However, one little part of his rant was new.

"Let your prime suspect go?" Norman reiterated, wincing slightly as the words came out too quickly to avoid appearing suspicion.

Carter caught on to his tense demeanor with a smug grin, his teeth flashing white as he shot Norman a side glance that spoke volumes. "What, you're not going to admit that shit? The case has been over for months, Norm."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he stated firmly.

"I'm_ talking_ about how Mars just vanished after_ you_ took over guarding him when Gary went on a piss break. And how the camera was just _conveniently_ off the entire time you took over."

"Not ringing 'eneh bells."

With a small laugh, Carter leaned back into the couch once more, the display of calm indifference dominating his demeanor again. He gave him another lazy look up and down, undoubtedly noticing how stiffly he was standing. "If everyone was as easy to read as you, you'd be out of the job, Norman."

Norman honestly didn't know how to respond to that. It was true that the other man had the uncanny ability to pick up on what he was thinking; with the exception of his addiction problems, of course. Though he didn't doubt the cop suspected he was hiding something – he just never pursued the subject, to his gratitude.

Instead of meeting the know-it-all asshole's eyes, his gaze flicked instead onto the coffee table in front of the couch. His phone was still lying there abandoned from last night. To his surprise, the missed call icon was flashing.

"Oh, yeah…Someone tried to call you earlier. Pennsylvania area code, too. I didn't recognize the number, so…" he let the statement trail off with a nonchalant shrug. Grumbling slightly, Norman leaned forward to pick it up – Carter could have still _answered_ it and taken a message – though once he spotted the number, he was immensely grateful he hadn't done so. The missed call was from Madison.

"Aaaah, fuck…" Norman groaned slightly, only now recalling he was supposed to call the journalist last night. It was late enough in the morning for a response to be likely, however. Norman tapped the call button twice on her missed call, bringing the phone up to his ear. After the first ring, he went on to answer Carter's unspoken question. "Madison…Madison Paige, remember? The journalist Ethan was dating…"

"Was?" Carter caught.

"Oh…they're uh…getting married next month. Did I not mention that?" It was going on past the fourth ring now – Norman winced, already imagining the ass chewing that he would undoubtedly be receiving the next time he spoke with the rather forward young woman.

Carter raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "No shit? Seems kinda…fast…"

Norman smiled weakly in agreement. "Ah, well…They're rath'ah impulsive people…."

"And which people are these?" came an amused female voice. Norman jumped slightly, heat rushing to his face – when the hell had she answered? Grateful that Madison couldn't see his reaction, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"N-nobody. Don't worry about it. How've you been, Madison?" His tongue tripped over several of the words. It was no secret journalists set him on the edge, and Madison was, fittingly enough, no exception. The lady's teasing could rival Carter's at times - and speaking of the cop, he could make out from the corner of his eye that the man was wearing a jackass grin only present when Norman found himself in an embarrassing situation.

"I know you made a point of ignoring journalists, but I never thought that'd be directed at me." The mock hurt in her voice was oozing with insincerity.

"Yeah, yeah…I'm sorr'ah I forgot to call."

To Norman's surprise, Madison cut the teasing short for once. "You said you had some questions about the wedding?"

"Oh…Yeah. I wanted to know if-" Norman paused, knowing that with present company, his next statement was going to fall under some seriously harsh mocking. Still, leaving the room would only pique the tactless asshole's curiosity. "…If you guys had a specific col'ah in mind for the wedding before I got a tux…"

Carter didn't fail his expectations as he laughed sharply before turning back to face the TV, unpausing the game and uttering without looking at him, "Jesus _Christ_, you're gay." Norman made a face at the back of his head, glad to see him fall to his death again on screen.

"…Have company?" Madison asked far too innocently. Norman jumped; he had been too preoccupied about Carter making fun of him to realize that the taunts would likely be heard on the other line.

"What? No…no, the TV's on," he brushed off, trying to sound as casual as possible.

He must have sounded halfway convincing, as Madison dropped the subject entirely as she went on to answer. "No, it's going to be pretty standard…Just a classic black and white is fine. Though I'm surprised you have to buy one; I figured you'd have hundreds lying around," she added jokingly.

"Those are business suits," Norman replied dryly. "And I really only own a few…I do a lot less wallowing in the mud here in D.C…"

Still chuckling slightly, she moved on. "Is that the only thing you wanted to ask?" Norman easily caught that same light tone of voice – it was subtle, but something about the slight overdose of casualness set him on the defensive.

"I think that's all…I'll call'yah back if anything else comes to mind."

"Oh, wait! Before I go…" Madison added, just as his thumb was about to press against the end call button. He paused expectantly to wait for her to finish. "Could you tell Lieutenant Blake he's more than welcome to show up? I'd send an invitation, but I figure it'd be quicker if you told him."

Norman tried his very best to stifle the startled coughing fit he found himself sent into as Carter turned in his seat to give him a confused (though thoroughly amused) look. Seeking shelter, he bolted into the bedroom as the older man watched with renewed interest.

"I-…I guess I could, but why would it be fast'ah if I told him?" he managed once out of earshot of the man in question.

There was an awkward silence on the line for a moment – awkward for _him_, anyway – He'd bet his rather considerable life savings that Madison was enjoying every second of it. Norman always had the impression Madison knew more than she let on about him and Blake; how much was the question. It left him in the highly uncomfortable position of not knowing what he could say without confirming her suspicions.

"…I just figured telling someone in person was a lot faster than the mail."

"How did you-"

"I didn't." Madison actually _giggled _at that, sending another wave of humiliation through him. It was unbelievable; despite all his caution, walking on egg shelves around the perspective woman, she had somehow caught him using what had to be the oldest trick in the book.

"…Okay. Why don't you just tell me what you know so I don't dig myself deepah?" Norman sighed in mixed defeat and irritation. That admission spoke volumes in and of itself, but Norman couldn't bring himself to care – at this point, it was obvious she wasn't fishing for more information so much as seeking a confession.

"Well, it's pretty newsworthy that the head police lieutenant of the area got shot. Then Shaun told me you took him to visit him in the hospital while we were out of town…And now _he's_ out of town…The pieces just kind of fell into place." Her tone started off satisfied, but after a moment without any response, the satisfaction was replaced by a hint of worry.

"…Norman," she urged him gently. "I'm asking as a friend, not a reporter."

The simple statement actually filled Norman with quite a bit of guilt as he smiled into the receptor, his irritation diminishing. He started off with the intention of apologizing, but surprised himself as the words flowed out naturally on their own. "…Thanks, Madison."

A small laugh was ushered in response before Madison spoke again, "So…are you two, uh… together, then?"

"It's kinda…complicated."

"I see…" The skepticism in her voice was triumphed only by amusement. Thankfully, she dropped that line of questioning. "Should we be expecting another guest, then?"

"…I'll talk to him about it." Norman felt the tension draining out of his body from the conversation – it was rather nice, having an honest third party know about their relationship. Plus, it meant their game of cat and mouse could finally come to an end. He'd certainly sleep easier knowing for a fact that she knew rather than having to live in embarrassed ignorance. However, there was still one rather stressful factor eating at him.

"Hey, Madison…Please don't tell Ethan about me and Cartah, okay?" Even over the phone he knew she was taken aback by the request. "I don't mind you knowing, but I don't…want things to get weird between me and Ethan."

"…Ethan's not like that, Norman." Another stab of guilt struck him at how Madison sounded almost hurt over the remark. It was certainly true that Ethan had never struck him as the homophobic type, yet Norman knew from experience things could easily become awkward in a platonic male friendship when one party was gay. It was inexplicable, how much it bothered him – as far as he was concerned, his sexuality was no one's business except himself and whoever he was sharing a bed with. He knew that was a fairly atypical viewpoint, however. Unlike many, Norman felt his orientation did very little to define him. It wasn't who he was, just a fact about him– no different from how his hair was brown. Yet others simply didn't see it that way, and the amount of friendships that had suffered as a result was a number far too high, in his eyes. The very idea of losing the bond he had with the Mars family over something of such little importance was enough to make him nauseous.

"I don't mean-…I just…" Norman shifted uncomfortably, unable to muster a response that would satisfy himself, much less her.

"…I won't say anything, since you asked. You can tell him yourself…whenever you're ready. If you ever decide to."

"…Okay." Norman nodded slightly, resolving to find a moment before the wedding to have a talk with the groom. Not desiring to end the conversation on a negative note, inspiration struck him from his previous conversation with Carter.

"Oh- one more thing, Madison…Tell Ethan I said thanks for not telling Blake I was the one who let him go."

The laugh that greeted him from the other end of the line was the most jubilant he had ever heard from the younger woman. It filled him with a warm sense of satisfaction, assuring him that despite the tense nature of their discussion, their relationship hadn't suffered in the slightest.

"You have no idea how much trouble they gave him," Madison replied, still chuckling. "Well…" She paused, the joking undertone in her voice returning, "Maybe you do." A small blush crept across his face at the subtle tease. "Oh, Norman…I worry about you."

"That'd make you the first." Despite the words, Norman was grinning quite openly.

"I wouldn't say _that_." Another cheerful laugh, and Norman found himself joining her this time around. "Take care of yourself, Norman."

"Mm-hm. You too, Madison."

* * *

><p>"As you can see, sir, we're completely<em> swamped<em> today," the tailor sighed from behind the counter. It indeed appeared to be the case; the man in front of them was the only employee at the front register, as all others were off attending other customers. While the rather older worker left to retrieve Norman's tuxedo, a thought occurred to him as he turned around to address Blake.

"You want to pick one up here, too?"

Norman caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of Carter apathetically looking at one of the displayed tuxedos. He grabbed its corresponding price tag and gave a snort before dropping it and turning back to him. "I'll pass. I can get something back home that doesn't cost my whole fuckin' paycheck."

Unsurprised, Norman turned back to facing the register with a chuckle. Carter had seemed rather taken aback at being told he was invited to the wedding, but it hadn't taken much convincing on his part to get him to agree. Fortunately, he hadn't read in to the fact that Madison had asked him to relay the message…he wondered how he'd react once he knew that she knew about the two of them having…something together. He hadn't appeared particularly bothered when that nurse had walked in on them (Norman's face heated up slightly at the memory), but this was considerably different, as Madison and Carter actually knew one another to an extent. Norman pushed that particular thought aside for later as he saw the tailor return with his clothing.

"I do hope it fits right, but if there's any problems, please don't hesitate to ask. Despite the rush, we can certainly still accommodate you," the man nodded politely as he handed off the hanger to him. "There should be a vacant fitting room at the back of the store, to your right."

"Thanks." Norman gave the man a nod and a smile in return before heading in the indicated direction. Behind him, he heard Carter shift and begin to follow. The action made him grin a little as he remembered comparing the man to a dog earlier – now he was trailing behind his feet, unwilling to part from him in a foreign environment. It was more than a little amusing to see the Philadelphian police lieutenant out of his element in the classy, privately owned suit store.

They approached the vacant dressing room in the back of the store, Norman noting with some surprise how separated it was from the rest of the establishment. The inside appeared smaller than it actually was, as the wooden bench against the back wall and the three large mirrors at the front dominated the room, leaving little space in between. Norman set the tuxedo's hanger onto the hook on the door before shutting it, catching a glimpse before it closed completely of Carter slouching against the wall outside, folding his arms with a bored expression on his face.

_You'll live, Cartah. _Norman rolled his eyes at the thought, hooking the tuxedo to the door as he admired it a moment before slipping his jeans off, replacing them instead with the dress pants. Despite Carter's mocking of how allegedly gay he was, he had picked it out specifically for how simple its design was. He wanted to look as professional as possible without standing out; Norman wasn't one for large social gatherings in the first place, so wearing something that maintained a low profile was crucial. It was the reason he called Madison in the first place – he didn't want to be the one guy in black if they had gone with a white theme or something.

The jacket was a plain, but classy black, contrasting with the white dress shirt he began to button up (without any ruffles or anything of the sort – he hated that shit). It had originally come with a matching white bowtie, but Norman had opted to replace it for the silk, white tie he was currently wrapping around his neck, enjoying the soft feel of the fabric between his fingers. No amount of fondness for the Mars family could make him actually wear a bowtie – he rather doubted there was a force strong enough on the planet that could do so.

He had to admit, as he shrugged himself in to the last remaining article, the jacket, that he was relieved everything still fit right after his recent binge exercising. If anything, he actually filled out the jacket better - previously, it had hung a little too loosely around his shoulders. Now it seemed to snugly fit his frame, accentuating his figure a great deal more than his typical work suit. Though he doubted it could afford to get any tighter.

Making a mental note to stick to cardio work outs until after the wedding, Norman opened the dressing room door. Carter was still lingering outside of it, chewing at the inside of his cheek in a fashion that screamed boredom. He stopped upon seeing him exit the room, his expression slowly changing into a rather perplexing look Norman was sure he had seen once or twice before. The when and where was escaping him, just barely out of reach – either way, the intensity of the stare was rather embarrassing. Seeking to alleviate the awkward air, he asked, "Does it look all right?"

Carter blinked, the expression fading away as he met his eyes, a smirk replacing it. " 'Makes you look pale as fuck, but it's better than grey."

Norman laughed softly as he turned his back to the cop, shrugging off the tuxedo's jacket and ripping off the tie as he walked back into the dressing room and hung them both back up. "But grey matches my eyes, Blake…" he responded with heavy sarcasm. His smile flickered as he turned to find himself face to face with the man, who kicked the door closed with the bottom of his foot. Before he could question any of the actions, he found himself with his back pressed against the changing room's wall, one of Carter's arms circling around his waist as the other hand grabbed his face, pushing him into Carter's lips with almost fanatical force.

Norman was too startled to do anything except let his instincts take over as he kissed him back. Carter had never struck him as the kissing type – indeed, the first half of their relationship had been completely without the sensual act. It implied affection more than sexuality, in Norman's mind, and he suspected the older cop felt the same way. Yet ever since they had drunkenly made out on the floor of Carter's house, Carter had lost all reluctance to perform the act. Those instances were behind closed doors, in the comfort one of their homes, however – right now, they were in a _clothing store_, for Christ's sake. Even if the dressing room door was closed. He supposed it wasn't that big of a deal, though; it wasn't as if they were-

The hand previously cupping his face slid down, reaching to the half undone buttons of his pants. With a single jerk, Carter pulled both the pants and his briefs halfway down his thighs, hand resting there until Norman swatted it away. He broke off the kiss to shoot the man an incredulous glance. "Cartah, what the _fuck_ are you-"

Carter's hand quickly shot out to cover his mouth, muffling his noisy protests. "Don't be so loud, we're in a public place," Carter chastised him, sounding rather like a father scolding his child for throwing a fit in a restaurant.

Norman jerked his head around to momentarily free his mouth, "Exactly, so sto-"He broke off as his efforts to avoid being gagged came to a halt as Carter stuck several fingers into his mouth. Blake never was the type to not learn from his mistakes, however; before Norman could drive his teeth into the invading appendages, he yanked his fingers out. Norman's eyes shot open to glare at him for the rude intrusion. All thoughts of doing so vanished as he instead caught sight of Carter sticking the fingers into his own mouth, sucking down on them sloppily in order to lather them in spit. The simple yet oddly erotic act did more to increase his arousal than anything he had seen the lieutenant do previously. His struggling grew halfhearted at best as the soaked hand made its way down his still clothed back to his ass. Carter squeezed it condescendingly; the demeaning act brought Norman temporarily back to his senses as he tried to escape from his grasp again. The thick, unyielding arm wrapped around his arms and torso increased its grip rather painfully in response as he felt himself forcibly turned around into the dressing room wall – though it was Carter pressing a wet finger to his entrance that made him freeze in his tracks.

"Better control your voice on your own, my hands are full…" Carter teased softly before lightly biting down on his earlobe. Without waiting for a response, he forced two fingers inside.

Norman gritted his teeth, doing his best to avoid making any type of noise, least of all one that resembled anything like pleasure. The very last thing he needed was to give off any signs that he was enjoying this; _he_ was the one that had considerably more to lose if anyone caught them like this, given their present location. God, he couldn't even imagine how his superiors would react if word got out that he was having sex in a clothing store – and with another man, to boot.

The way Carter expertly maneuvered his fingers to locate the sensitive, swelled organ inside of him made it hard to spare that thought any time. Though his previous comment that Carter could finger a guy way too well was intended to be malicious and snide, it nonetheless was far too truthful for Norman's liking.

He squirmed against Carter's grip again, trying to free his arms as a growing sense of need filled him. To his relief, Carter allowed it, his hand shooting up just in time to muffle a moan as Carter applied a great deal more pressure onto his prostate. Carter's arm remained steady around his waist, however; he felt himself be pulled back as Carter cautiously stepped back before seating himself on the waiting bench at the back of the small changing room. The entire situation grew twice as humiliating as Norman was subsequently pulled into Carter's lap.

With his eyes tightly closed in strain and his back facing the cop, it was difficult to reason what his intentions were when he felt the arm previously entrapping him leave his side. Seconds later, he heard a familiar cling of metal that told him a belt was being unbuckled, followed by a shifting of fabric. The hips underneath him wiggled slightly before the unmistakable feel of Carter's hot and incredibly hard dick brushed against the soft fabric still covering his back. All Norman's fears of being caught returned full force upon the other man's erection touching him. This just wasn't a good idea, neither of them were particularly known for their self-control…how were they going to manage keeping their voices dow-

"Does it fit right, sir?"

Even Carter jumped in shock at the returning tailor's question, his fingers quickly retreating from Norman's ass - Norman just barely managed to morph the moan into a loud cough before answering.

"Y-Yes!" He wanted to_ die_ when he heard the sound of his own voice; high pitched and ridiculously strained.

"You're sure, sir? We were a little uncertain if we made the sleeves too long…" The doorknob shifted slightly, sending him into an absolute state of panic.

"No no no! They'ah…perfect! Fine. Everything's fine, you can help your oth'ah customers…" Despite his better wishes, the words came out as an obvious plea.

"…Very well, sir," the tailor sounded surprised, though thankfully not overly so. "Please don't hesitate to call me if anything has been measured incorrectly."

"Th-thanks…" Norman waited for the footsteps to fade away before releasing the breath he'd been holding in. Behind him, he could feel Carter shaking with laughter.

"Ahhhh, fuck. That was pretty close." The comment came off as so nonchalant that Norman wanted to strangle him. He twisted around in his lap with those exact intentions, though Carter recognized his hostile intent instantly and managed to grab both his wrists before forcing him to face forward again.

Carter adjusted his wrists so they were held instead by only one hand. Looking up, he could see through the reflection the dressing room's large mirrors offered that Carter had just spat into the freed one. Seconds later, he felt that the hot organ once again pressed against his back was now considerably damper. In spite of situation, Norman felt a flutter of excitement rush through the pit of his stomach, his body still aching from need from Carter's previous ministrations. He tried to ignore the sensation to the best of his ability as he turned his neck as much as it allowed in order to catch the gaze of his captor's eyes.

"Stop fuckin' around, Cartah!" He meant to sound firm, but the odd excitement building in him and the tension of the situation strangled the words.

His poorly concealed eagerness wasn't lost on Carter in the slightest. "You don't sound too convincing there, _Norman_."

"We're gonna get caught-"

"-Only if _you_ don't keep your voice down," he hissed back irritably, a tone of finality heavy in his voice as he lined himself up against his ass again. Without waiting to hear another word against him, Carter wrapped his arm around his waist once more, pushing Norman back into his chest as his other hand made its way to his waist for leverage before shoving himself inside him.

The previously applied spit was enough to allow for Carter to move, but not quite enough to completely be rid of the raw, burning sensation caused by the friction of their bodies moving together. Norman grimaced in pain, trying to adjust to the new and rather unpleasant feeling. Far from dissatisfied, Norman was actually rather relieved – it'd be a lot easier to keep quiet this way…If he just let Carter do his thing, they could be done with this quicker, possibly even without jeopardizing his reputation.

With that thought in mind, Norman tensed his body up before shoving his hips down in time to match Carter's next thrust. It shot pain throughout his lower body, but he put his focus instead on silently cherishing the poorly subdued moan that followed from Carter.

"Fuck…" Carter groaned quietly, pulling himself out of the now much tighter channel. "Loosen up, Jayden..."

The pleasured yet strained command jolted Norman's memory as he recalled exactly when he had seen that piercing look Carter had directed at him earlier. Not even two months ago, when Carter had similarly cornered him in the shower after they hadn't seen one another in a month. In the same weekend, he had caught a few glimpses of it again while wearing the other man's clothes. It was a sexual glare that spoke mostly of physical attraction, but what caught Norman's attention was how it seemed to contain an underlying sense of almost…affection, that set it apart from the man's usual lustful looks.

His body relaxed considerably upon making the connection, just in time to allow for Carter's next thrust up to slide in deeper unhindered. Forgetting himself and their location completely, Norman didn't attempt to silence the pleasured cry it caused.

"Keep your voice down, dipshit!" Carter reminded him in quiet irritation, his own voice containing the same satisfaction nonetheless.

"S-shit. S'ahr-" Norman bit back the apology – as far as he was concerned, this whole thing was Carter's fault. Even if he was finding himself getting into it more and more by the second, evidenced by the fact that he was now matching Carter's movements to the best of his abilities. The room was silent for several minutes except for subdued moans and quiet grunts before Carter spoke again.

"Look up." The husky command was hissed directly into his ear – despite Carter's hot breath, it sent a shiver down his spine. Without stopping to analyze the order, he obeyed it, immediately realizing why Carter demanded it as he met his own gaze in the mirror.

If he hadn't known otherwise, Norman wouldn't have recognized the man in the mirror as himself. His face was completely reddened, sweat covering it due to the physical exertion his body was undergoing, starting from his forehead and dripping down his face. The salty liquid had mingled with his hair, causing several strands to escape their carefully gelled holdings, curling down to almost cover his eyes – which were half lidded and completely unfocused. One well-placed thrust later, and he could only watch as his mouth parted to allow the accompanying, barely subdued moan to escape it.

Norman averted his eyes from his own face as sheer embarrassment took hold. In doing so, he caught a glimpse of the rest of his body. He could feel that sweat was glistening down his torso as well – and now see it was causing the buttoned dress shirt he had been trying on to cling to his body. Further down he spotted Carter's arm that was possessively pressing against his waist again to hold him steady. Directly underneath it, he saw his cock was just as dampened as the rest of him, the liquid coating it instead what he knew had to be his own precum. Norman looked away from it quickly, noticing instead that the matching dress pants were still clinging to his thighs. A new fear clenched at his stomach as he closed his eyes before putting it into words.

"…C-Cartah," he struggled to say as the other man thrust back into him perfectly.

"Mh-hm?" The small hum tickled against his neck, making him shiver all over again.

"Th-…the sh-shirt…" he stammered, as Carter hadn't stopped moving to allow him to speak.

"What about it?" Carter asked in amusement before pressing his lips back to his neck, sucking down gently.

"It's gonna-…fu-fuck, it's gonna-" He let out a small growl of frustration as Carter continued grinding against his prostate, rendering speech nearly impossible. Norman jerked his hips up, trying to escape the stimulation for a few moments so he could actually speak. His only reward was a small laugh for his futile efforts before Carter grabbed his hips and pushed him back down. Fortunately for both of them, Carter had the insight to quickly shoot a hand up from his waist to his mouth in order to cover the loud moan that followed.

Carter seemed to pick up on his preoccupation, however. The other hand planted on his waist began to move upward, capturing the top button and slowly undoing it. Carter started to move the hand covering his mouth to aid the other before thinking better of it – Norman had reached the point where maintaining control over his voice was nigh impossible. With a small chuckle, he left it there and continued the task of undoing the shirt one-handed. Once every button was undone, his shifted the fabric aside to further expose Norman's chest and stomach.

The rough hand on his mouth being the only barrier between the entire damn store hearing him moan like a slut was enough to drive Norman into an insane state of embarrassed arousal – it only seemed to peak as Carter's other warm, calloused hand began to caress his now naked flesh. Norman had no idea what sensation to focus on – the worn, almost leather-like skin gliding up and down his much smoother torso, Carter's lips brushing similarly across his neck, or the characteristically harsh thrusts hitting him just right. Instead, he found himself raising his head again to peer at his own reflection. He could barely make himself out, his vision was so blurred; to which he was very grateful, as it was humiliating enough to see his blurry form now matching Carter's every moment again as he practically bounced up and down on his cock.

Carter noticed the sudden shift in his line of vision, meeting Norman's gaze in the mirror with the smallest hint of a smile. "You know I wouldn't actually let anyone catch us," Carter breathed, his voice now carrying a significant amount of strain.

"…I'm the only one who gets to see you like this."

The words were possessive in nature, but the almost affectionate way they were uttered sent Norman over the edge completely. The hand being used as a barricade for sound wasn't enough to completely conceal the almost desperate sounding moan Norman ushered as he came all over his own stomach. He didn't even have a chance to relish in the moment as he felt a sharp tug on his damp hair, pulling his head back at an awkward angle. Before he could say a word, Norman felt his lips be forcefully pressed against Carter's. Norman could feel the man's cock twitch inside him as he pushed himself in one final time, followed by the familiar sensation of hot liquid stinging his insides in a pleasant sort of way. The sound of Carter's own satisfied moan was muffled against Norman's mouth before Carter drew his lips away, releasing his grip on Norman's hair with a slight smirk.

Norman shifted his neck back to a more natural position before cracking it with a grunt. He opened his eyes again – his face burning even redder as his now-cleared vision took in the sight of himself covered in his own cum, seated on Carter's lap. He looked down quickly – partly to avoid soaking in the image more, and partly to make sure none of the bodily fluid had stained the shirt. Upon noting nothing after triple checking it, he shifted himself out of the garment as carefully as possible to avoid the mess on his torso.

Carter made a move to push Norman off of him – in a brief moment of panic, Norman caught both his wrists and pushed them back down. "Wait!"

He raised an eyebrow before jerking his arms out from his grip. "What? I gathered that this is your thing, but I ain't going a second round…"

"It's _not _my-…" Norman sighed, deciding it was better to just cut his losses and surrender on that point, as every bit of evidence seemed to be pointing otherwise. Instead, he jerked back his elbow into the softer part of Carter's stomach, relishing the small grunt of pain that followed. Before he could retaliate, Norman continued, "No, _jackass,_ I just don't want the pants to get dirty eith'ah." With that, he squirmed out of the expensive article of clothing before kicking it off entirely into the corner.

Once the as of yet unpurchased clothing was safely out of the way, Carter playfully shoved him off with a smirk. Norman stumbled before he managed to successfully support his own weight. He pulled his briefs back up, blushing horribly as he could still easily feel the sticky mess inside him. He hated leaving it there, but it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it at this point – it'd have to wait until he could properly clean himself off in a shower.

"You're a complete asshole," he muttered as he pulled the shirt he had been wearing previously inside out to mop up the semen on his chest before putting it back on. He considered it a blessing that he had at least worn a white shirt today.

"So you keep telling me."

Through the mirror he could make out the smug, self-satisfied expression on Carter's face. Pressing his lips together tightly, Norman noted that it was the exact same look he had been wearing the first time Norman ever lost his professional composure and cussed him out all those months ago.

…_And look at us now, Norman. _He pushed the thought aside with a sigh, smoothing out his shirt and flattening his hair, using the mirrors as guidance in the task of making himself look like someone that hadn't just been thoroughly fucked.

* * *

><p><strong>I don't want to come off as if I'm ignoring any of all your suggestions – they'll definitely be featured in later chapters! But you know how it is…you get an idea in your head, and it festers there until you write it down to get rid of it. Haha. But yeah. Next chapter…I promise.<strong>

**On an entirely unrelated note, am I the only one that got lesbian vibes off Madison? I mean, obviously I was dead wrong, but damn, she works the short hair look. The way my twisted logic works, since she's not a lesbian, I take her to be a total fag hag. (You know, the girl that hangs out with all the gay guys…) So I figure, if you have Norman save Ethan's life in game, Madison and Ethan hook up, and we go off the interpretation that Norman is gay…Those three would just make the most badass trio of best friends**_** ever.**_** Maybe with some added hostilities between them and Blake – like Blake exuding some clingy, jealous girlfriend vibes when Norman chooses to hang out with them instead of him. Haha-Okay, enough of my dorky rambling. I shouldn't be given computer access when I'm this tired. Anywaaays, I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter!**


	9. Empathy

**Author's Note: Oh man, sorry this took so long! My schedule at work just got completely revamped, so I've had to adjust my work out schedule, my sleeping schedule, everything…I've ended up working until late at night, exercising in the very early morning, and then sleeping until I have to work again. It's not a schedule that's conducive to writing…or anything, actually XD And then they tell me they're changing it**_** again**_** so I'll have the graveyard shift next month…Oh god. Money…my only weakness. **

**But enough about my enslavemen-…job. Don't be afraid to tell me if this particular chapter seemed sporadic; it was obviously written over the course of a few weeks, forgotten for days at a time. I was in a different mood every time I picked it back up – so I'm more than a little worried it doesn't flow right. Plus, there were quite a few parts I just kept rewriting until I was like – "Fuck it. Get off my desktop" and uploaded it. Haha. **

**On a final note, I really, really want to thank everyone for their reviews. They make me amazingly happy, I can't even express it. I do write largely for the sake of writing since it's a lovely way to pass time and relieve stress, but you wouldn't believe how excited I get when I get a text on my phone saying someone's left a review. Though at some point I'll probably have to surgically remove my brain and start wringing it out for ideas…but I will, for you guys!**

* * *

><p>"Mr. Blake, that was my fire flower!" Shaun pouted indignantly, tearing his eyes away from the flat-screen TV to glare at the offending party for his crime.<p>

Carter snorted, pausing the game to glare right back at the brat seated next to him. "Snooze you lose, kid. Next time be faster."

With a huff, Shaun leaned back into the leather seat, waiting expectantly for Carter to unpause the game so they could continue the level together. Carter rolled his eyes at the boy's impatience, though he quickly complied with his unspoken wishes. He had to admit, this was the last place he expected to be spending his last evening before his forced vacation was over; the living room of the Mars household, playing video games with Shaun while his parents were out buying groceries for dinner.

Allegedly, it had been Madison's idea, though it had taken a good amount of convincing on Norman's part to get Carter to go along with it. His argument was that since Carter hardly knew the Mars family, it'd be a good idea to spend a little more time with them before their wedding. Otherwise, things were bound to be horribly awkward for all parties involved.

For the life of him, Carter didn't understand _why_ he had been invited to the wedding in the first place. Not only did he not know Madison at all (except for a few interrogations after the death of Leland White, but none of them had been one-on-one), but he had literally beaten Ethan Mars into the ground during the Origami case, shortly accusing him thereafter of being the killer himself. According to Norman, however, Mars was firmly set in the mindset that there was no harm done. That was the infuriating part. Carter could handle being wrong – it came with the job. Half of his work was trial-and-error; formalities and bullshit investigating in order to narrow down a list of suspects. What he _couldn't_ handle was feeling guilty about being wrong- and that was the exact feeling being around Mars brought out of him. He certainly didn't regret hitting the man; he had confessed to 'kidnapping' his son, for Christ's sake. After hearing his ex-wife and therapist's testimonies, the conclusion was fairly obvious at the time. And since he hadn't complied with Norman's good cop routine…Well, different methods had to be used, and said methods were his specialty.

But now it was plainly obvious he had been in the wrong, even if there was little way for him to have known it at the time. Yet Mars just acted like nothing had happened, going so far as to invite him to his goddamn wedding…even if Carter tried to apologize, he probably wouldn't hear anything of it. It left him feeling as if he was somehow in the man's debt. In Carter's mind, there was one quick, easy solution. If Mars would just deck him across the face, the books would be balanced and they could start off on a clean slate. But he knew Mars was far too decent of a guy to do so, and it drove him insane. If there was one thing Carter couldn't stand, it was nice people.

It was a large factor as to why he found himself getting along with Norman fairly well after the case concluded. This wasn't to say Norman was unkind or not empathetic – he was just also an asshole. Hell, the man had punched him_ twice_ before Carter had ever laid a finger on him, something completely unprecedented for him. When treated with respect and compassion, Norman responded as such with a smile, happy to help to the fullest extent of his abilities. But if confronted with hostility or patronized, the agent could easily do a complete 180 and turn into a beast that could rival even Carter…and he rather admired that about the younger man. He held his own, something Carter hadn't been forced to deal with in ages. Not that he'd let him know, of course – it'd just encourage his already lacking respect for authority.

In fact, Carter was quite certain the agent had a direct involvement in the turn of events. No doubt, it was somehow his fault; the only party more guilty than Norman was the boy sitting next to him. A boy now crying out in utter frustration as Carter maneuvered his character to jump on his head so he could more easily reach the next platform.

"Mr. Blake, you're the worst teammate ever!" he cried, dropping his controller irritably.

"Hey hey, don't insult me – there's no way I'm worse than Jayden."

"Mr. Jayden doesn't kill me to save himself or steal my power-ups," Shaun replied stubbornly in defense of the FBI agent.

"Well then, _Mister _Jayden's bein' too soft. I'm just preparin' you for the real world, kid. It's a cutthroat place…" Carter was incapable of keeping a straight face once Shaun shot him a skeptical look. With a laugh, he paused the game to give both their eyes a break for a moment. Speaking of Jayden, he'd been awful quiet the past half hour or so…

Rubbing his sore eyes, Carter's vision flicked over to the room's other couch. The two pieces of furniture were arranged in an L shape around the TV, easily allowing for the entertainment of multiple people. Though Carter suspected it was more to provide a comfortable, low pressure environment for interviews than parties.

The sight he was greeted with made his grin widen. While he and Shaun had been distracted, Norman had passed out into the piece of furniture, curled up into a ball as he slept without making a sound. Shaun followed his line of vision curiously, blinking in slight surprise as he took in the sight as well. Without a word, the boy jumped off the couch and left the room.

Carter's laziness beat his curiosity towards the action as he leaned back into the couch. Truth be told, he wouldn't mind passing out either. Despite the entire point of his vacation being resting and recovering, the last week had been full of the exact opposite after Norman had casually dropped the idea of them working out together. Behind the suggestion, Carter could easily sense an unspoken challenge, causing his competitive nature to rear its head as he immediately accepted. The results of said match were quite clearly on display as the agent slept away his exhaustion while he sat wide awake on the other couch.

_Fuckin' wuss._

Though if he was honest, Norman's cardio was actually pretty damn impressive. It was enough to force Carter to manipulate the circumstances, under the guise of 'not wanting to strain his shoulder'- a manipulation on his part of Norman's naturally nurturing nature, certainly, but not entirely untruthful either. Instead, he dragged Norman to the gym to _aid_ him in muscle building (though he limited upper body work-outs, for obvious reasons). God knew the scrawny little bastard needed it. Still, Norman had kept up a hell of lot better than he would have expected; it'd certainly prove as motivation to not let himself fall behind in working out.

The sound of footsteps made Carter look away from the sleeping agent as Shaun returned into the living room, a blanket and pillow in hand. He threw the pillow into Carter's lap as he unfolded the blanket, carefully draping it across Norman's sleeping figure. Shaun stepped back with a small smile on his face as Norman made an incoherent yet obviously satisfied noise, subconsciously grabbing the cloth to drag it closer to his form.

_That little brat is so…not a little brat at all. Takes after his father to a fuckin' T…_

With a sigh, Carter stood up with the pillow in hand, taking the few steps to the furniture Jayden was sleeping on. Shaun directed the smile at him now as he looked up in approval. "I knew Mr. Jayden couldn't be serious about you being a bul-" He broke off with a strangled cry as Carter took the pillow and shoved it into Norman's face, cutting off the man's air supply temporarily. Norman woke up almost immediately, his own cry of confusion and panic muffled by the pillow. His arms shot out from under the blanket, flailing around to locate his attacker.

"Mr. Blaaaaake! You're suffocating him!" Shaun jumped forward to try to push Carter away from his victim, just as Norman finally blindly located his arms and shoved them aside. With a gasp, Norman jolted into a seated position, breathing heavily. For a moment he looked at both of them, trying to piece together how exactly he had been so rudely awakened.

"Wha-…Why'd…G'awd _dammit_, Cart-uh…" His angry accusation was interrupted by a yawn. He raised his hand to cover it, blindly grabbing the pillow and throwing it back at Carter all the while. "Is there even a compa'shionate bone in your body?"

"I dunno, are there even any muscles in yours?" he teased back immediately, sitting back on the couch with a smirk.

Norman's eyes narrowed, shooting him a glare before looking away. His gaze instead lowered down to his form still half-covered in a blanket. "That's cute, Blake, did'yah tuck me in?"

Carter snorted, scratching the side of his bearded face before jerking his head in Shaun's direction. "Please. Shaun did that."

Norman's expression softened upon hearing the child's name. He looked up at Shaun, shifting himself into a seated position to give the boy room to sit down next to him. "Thanks, Shaun…S'ahrry about fallin' asleep. Were you okay alone with this monster f'ah so long?"

Shaun grinned a little, his eyes flicking between Carter and Norman. "Yeah…He's not a very good team player in Mario Bros, though…"

The ghost of a grin flicked across Norman's face as he turned his neck slightly to shoot Carter a coy look. "Not the best of partn'ahs, is he? Violent…self-servin'…aggressive…"

This time it was Carter who narrowed his eyes as he easily caught the double meaning in Norman's insult. "It's not really self-serving if it's _mutually beneficial_, is it, Norm?" Norman's cheeks flashed in embarrassment as he sent him a heated warning look.

"Like when you made me lose my mushroom so I could be small enough to get us those extra lives?" Shaun suggested thoughtfully.

Carter grinned horribly in response as Norman coughed, trying to regain his composure. "Y-yeah…"

The sound of the front door of the Mars residence opening cut short Carter's chance to verbally abuse the younger man more. Looking up revealed Mars and Madison both walking in, arms full to the brim with groceries. Norman jumped up from couch to help, making Carter follow with a slight sigh.

"What's all this?" Norman asked curiously as Mars passed off a few bags to the man with a grateful smile. Sticking out from one of the them was a long nylon rope.

"Oh – Me and Shaun are going to set a swing up to the tree in the backyard…Well," he broke up with a slight laugh as he set the groceries onto the counter. "Try to, anyway. I don't have too much confidence in my abilities there…"

"Aren't you an architect?" the agent replied, amusement heavy in his voice. Mars leaned against the counter to face Norman, his now-free arms folding in front of his chest in mock defense.

"Yeah- I design things, not build them," Mars countered.

A small tug on his arm drew Carter's attention away from the exchange as he looked down to find Shaun dragging him forward. "Maybe Mr. Blake can help us, Dad?"

Mars looked between the two of them in surprised. "Well – I don't want to burden you-"

Unwilling to deny the request from the boy looking up so pleadingly at him, Carter sighed and gave an unenthusiastic nod. "…Sure, why not? I'm pretty decent with knots…"

"Great – that'll clear up the kitchen so Norman and I can cook," Madison interjected, setting the groceries she'd been carrying next to Mars's as she turned to flash Norman a smile. Carter couldn't help but grin horribly again, barely containing his desire to laugh uncontrollably at the fact that they'd been divided up by household chores– him outside building while Norman stayed inside cooking dinner. It was fucking perfect.

Norman scowled at both at Carter's reaction and Madison's all-but-demand. "Since when was I the one cookin' dinnah?"

"Since I studied journalism instead of culinary arts – C'mon, Norman, lend me a hand. I can barely cook spaghetti without burning it."

"She's not lying," Shaun mumbled quietly, quickly ducking behind Carter as Madison glared at him, a slight grin tugging at her lips nonetheless. Still safely behind Carter, Shaun tugged his arm again, "Can you help me put away the games, Mr. Blake?" Carter gave a slight nod as Shaun turned to address his father next. "We'll meet you outside, Dad."

Mars nodded politely to Carter as he grabbed the supplies necessary for the swing before heading outside. The simple yet friendly gesture made him feel intensely uncomfortable, and he found himself grateful the man had walked away. From the corner of his eye he spotted Norman and Madison pulling out various food items to begin cooking – it put him back into a good mood again as he smirked and began putting the gaming system back into the box Norman had given Shaun.

"The door in the corner leads to my room," Shaun pointed, jogging slightly with the controllers in hand so he could lead the way. Carter followed him into the indicated room, setting the box down to take in the sight.

The walls, though painted blue, were hardly visible underneath the huge amount of clutter they contained. Not only were they littered with posters, but the entire wall behind the bed was covered in pictures – both drawn and actual photographs. Almost every photo was of Shaun and his family, making Carter smile slightly. In most of the older photos, Shaun's mom was present; as well as a boy that looked slightly older than Shaun himself.

_Oh, shit, that's right…_In Mars's testimony, he had mentioned that Shaun used to have an older brother before he was killed in a car accident. Carter grimaced slightly at the depressing thought, moving away from the older photographs and on to the ones displayed on Shaun's desk. Only one displayed a picture of Shaun's older brother, holding Shaun in a headlock as they both laughed into the camera.

"That's one of the few pictures Mom ever took of both of us…She never managed to get Jason to sit still." Shaun chuckled, brushing past him to pick up the photo.

At that moment, there wasn't a place in the world Carter wouldn't rather be in. He felt like he should say something in response, yet all he managed to do was uncomfortably watch Shaun distantly gaze at the photograph with a smile on his face that could only be described as lonely. He shifted restlessly where he stood, his mind racing as it searched for the appropriate course of action–it was a situation he certainly didn't feel he was qualified in tackling.

After spending so much time with Shaun in the hospital, he felt he had a decent grasp on the boy's personality. The staff there constantly praised the child for handling the horrifying ordeal he'd been through so well, but being one of the few that saw Shaun at his worst during his panic attacks, Carter knew better. Shaun was without a doubt a stoic child; a trait he'd normally admire if it wasn't for the fact that he was still a _child._ The poor kid deserved the opportunity to just fucking cry – needed it, really. But he refused to, bottling it up instead so it exploded all at once during his attacks.

Back then, he hadn't known about Shaun having a deceased older brother. It only made the entire ordeal seem far worse for the boy – he could only imagine the horrible questions running through Shaun's head. If his brother had still been alive, would he have been the one kidnapped instead? Why was he the one to survive while his brother died? If he had died, would it have reunited them?

The thoughts made even him wince in their harshness. If Shaun wasn't suffering from a serious case of survivor's guilt, he'd eat his fucking badge. He did his best to hide such emotions – probably to avoid making Mars feel even worse about the incident – but Carter didn't doubt the thoughts existed for a second.

"…Shaun."

"Hm?" Shaun set the photograph down, turning to face him. The forced smile flickered off his face upon spotting Carter's serious expression. "Is, um…something wrong?"

Now that he had the kid's attention, Carter found himself at a loss for words again. What was he supposed to tell him? '_Remember all those times at the hospital where you panicked and starting bawling into my shoulder? You should do that again, it'll make you feel better.' _Or how about _'Hey, I know you're trying to hide the fact that you're traumatized as all fuck from being kidnapped and nearly murdered – and it probably hurts a lot more because you __**did **__survive, unlike your brother – but cheer up'_?

Scratching the back of his head awkwardly, Carter sighed and let the first words that crossed his mind roll off his tongue, "I'm…sorry."

Confusion flicked across the boy's features as he made another attempt at smiling. "Uh…What for, Mr. Blake?" His eyes danced between Carter's expression and the photograph before they casted downward. "Oh!…That's…not your fault."

"It's not yours either." Carter watched the kid's head snap up in shock before he averted his gaze again. "No – look at me, Shaun," he ordered, his tone sharp. Startled at the harsh tone, Shaun complied, uncertainty plain in his expression. "It's not your fault."

Complete and utter discomfort flooded his system as he spotted tears in the young child's eyes. He couldn't handle crying, never mind that he'd seen the kid do it before. It was one of the very few parts of his job he absolutely couldn't tolerate – if a case called for an empathetic figure, he always tried to get out of it, let someone else take the role.

But there wasn't anyone else he could pass the duty onto – and this wasn't just some stranger he had to break bad news to, it was _Shaun_. A kid that had been thrown into complete Hell and came back, and was now just trying to _live_ again.

Immobilized by uncertainty, it was Shaun that broke the silence, "…I know. I know, but…" He took a shaky breath, wiping away in frustration the few tears that he had permitted to escape. "…It does feel good to hear it." He took a couple steps forward, closing the distance between them before burying his face into Carter's shirt.

_Don't just stand here gaping than an idiot, do something…_

Obeying the thoughts, Carter raised an arm and wrapped it around Shaun, pulling him in closer as he silently patted his back. Words continued to fail him, much to his frustration – but it seemed to be enough, as when Shaun pulled back, he was wearing a tremulous yet legitimate smile.

"Could you…go out ahead of me? I don't want to go out looking like this," he huffed, actually sounding more annoyed than upset as he wiped the rest of his tears away.

Rather surprised, Carter hesitated, lowering his arm slowly back to his side. "You sure you're okay?"

Shaun sniffled before giving a firm nod. "Yeah. I just need a couple of minutes…"

Thoughts of whether or not he was doing the right thing by leaving plagued him, but he had to admit the dismissal came as a relief. At any rate, he doubted Shaun wanted him to see him break down again after so much time had passed – undoubtedly, the blow to his pride would just make him feel even worse. As he opened the bedroom door to leave, however, Shaun's voice caused him stop in his tracks.

"Mr. Blake…Uhh…Thanks."

Taken aback, he turned to give the boy a rare smile, nodding his acknowledgement at the words before slowly shutting the door. Once he heard it click from behind him, he leaned against the wooden structure with a huff.

'_Thanks'. Right. 'Thanks for standing around like a complete moron, Mr. Blake! You sure were fuckin' supportive!'_

His face scrunched up at the thought as he began making his way to the house's backyard in long strides. He could at least be grateful he didn't have to pass by the kitchen, thus avoiding contact with Norman and Madison – interaction with either one of them would do nothing to quell his bad mood.

Carter's quick pace came to a sudden halt when he found himself outside – not realizing until that very moment that leaving Shaun by himself for a little while meant he'd be completely alone with the head of the Mars household for what was sure to be many long, uncomfortable moments. He wasn't sure how much more of this awkwardness he could take before he went completely insane. This little "visit" of Norman's had to be the worst thing he had gone along with in ages.

Mars was just throwing the ropes onto the tree towards the back of the yard when he heard Carter approaching. Twisting his neck back, his eyes flicked to Carter himself before looking behind him. "Where's Shaun?" he asked, not concerned so much as merely curious.

"Uh…Still inside. Wanted to organize all the games he got…" Carter lied lamely without making eye contact.

"Ah…"

"Yep," Carter replied, still finding the ground beneath him far more agreeable to look at than Mars. _Norm, I'm going to murder you when this is all over. _

"Well…That's convenient," Carter raised an eyebrow at the words as Mars stopped fiddling with the ropes, turning to completely face him with a serious expression on his face. "Listen – I don't want you to feel cornered. You've been tense since the moment I came home. I think things will go a lot smoother for both of us if we just get everything on the table."

Without missing a beat, Carter accepted the obvious invitation to speak his mind, the stress from earlier fueling his ire. "Right. Well, sorry if I'm just a_ little_ uncomfortable about the fact that a guy who's life I actively tried to ruin is now trying to accept me into his home with open-fucking-arms." The filter he had put into place for Shaun's sake broke away immediately, allowing him to vent his frustrations in his usual belligerent style of speaking. Hell, he _wanted_ to offend Mars – he'd say whatever it took to make the guy see reality for what it was.

"…Ruined my life?" Mars repeated, his tone more amused than curious. The nonchalant answer made Carter's eyes narrow in annoyance.

Mars slid his hands into his pockets, leaning back against the tree with an amused look on his face as he observed Carter's reaction. "After the case, you could've easily pressed charges against me for something, to make yourself look better. I mean, I resisted arrest twice, among a few…other things…" Mars coughed, bringing a hand out of his pocket to conceal the act before continuing.

"But you didn't, and instead I only had to wait a couple weeks for the paper work to be cleared before I was free to see my son. And then I found out you'd been taking care of him while I was away…Well, you can't blame me if I didn't have it in me to resent you."

He paused to collect his thoughts, giving Carter the chance to interject. "All right – Look. I just wanted to finally be _done_ with that case, and if that got you home to Shaun faster…Well, good for you. It wasn't my motivation, that's for fuckin' sure. I'm not saying I hate you or anything, but Christ…you're twisting everything I did in order to paint me out to be some kind of fucking knight in shining armor here."

Mars listened to his argument calmly, without interruption. Once he was certain Carter had finished, he tilted his head and regarded him with a curious expression on his face. "…Blake, why are you so determined to project yourself as a bad person?"

Carter coughed in shock, temporarily rendered speechless out of sheer disbelief. After a moment of sputtering, he managed to find his tongue. "Mars, did you forget the fucking time where I beat the shit out of you? I'm sure I have a video of it – Wait, _no_, I _don't,_ because I had the camera turned off so you wouldn't be able to prove it. Jesus fucking Christ, Mars, does that _sound_ like a good person to you?"

"It might have slipped my mind, yeah. That week alone, I broke three of my ribs, tore open my arms and legs, electrically burned myself, and had my finger cut off…Honestly, at that point? Your punches kind of tickled." Despite his irritation, Carter couldn't help but laugh a little at the remark. Mars's eyes glinted in amusement before his expression grew more serious as he continued, "I can't blame you for thinking I was the Origami Killer, Blake…_I_ thought I was the Origami Killer, for Christ's sake. Put me in a room with a child killer and I would've beaten him to the ground too.

"I mean…I'd be lying if I said I didn't…Well, hate you, at first. Especially after the second arrest…" Mars stopped for a moment, running a hand through his hair as he sighed audibly at the memory. "I'd never felt so helpless. Even after Norman helped me, I couldn't stay free long enough to save Shaun…If there was ever a time I honestly thought Shaun was going to die…that was it.

"But it all worked out in the end, and that's really all the thought I care to give it," he finished with a slight smile, extending his hand.

Rather taken aback, Carter shook it with a grimace. "…No offense, Mars, but you're so forgiving, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

To his surprise, Mars grinned widely at the statement as he pulled his hand away. "You sound like Norman." He gave a sharp laugh upon spotting the absolutely offended look on Carter's face. "He couldn't believe I didn't hate you either. Seeing how much the guy disliked you... I nearly went into shock when Madison told me you two had become friends."

"Uh…right. World's just kinda funny that way…" Carter coughed, avoiding eye contact as he shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

Somehow, hearing the term 'friendship' to describe his relationship with Norman felt…misplaced. It wasn't even because they were sexually involved with one another – or perhaps it _was, _but because they had started off _only_ sexually involved. But the more time that passed, the less exclusively physical their relationship became. Going out drinking, hospital visits, seeing the sights in D.C. together…Hell, Carter had even taught Norman a little self-defense, and he _loathed_ teaching. It required a level of patience he simply didn't have for most people. Those kinds of activities weren't done with someone you just wanted to fuck around with. But their relationship simply wasn't platonic enough to be called a friendship…Was there even a label for two people that shared both sexual and platonic moments together?

_Yeah, dipshit, it's called dating._

The thought alone made him visibly cringe as heat rushed to his face. A small cough tore him away from the revelation – Carter jumped slightly, only now remembering Mars was still standing in front of him. Looking slightly bewildered, he opened his mouth to speak; Carter cut him off quickly, not desiring to hear the obvious question.

"-Like I said, you leave a bad taste in my mouth, Mars," he answered smoothly.

His eyebrows furrowed in amusement, but he dropped the issue. "…Call me Ethan, Lieutenant."

The hypocritical use of his title made his lips twitch upward. "Well then…drop the "Lieutenant" bullshit and call me Carter. The only people that address me by rank are suck ups and assholes…and you're neither.

"Speaking of both of those things, though…What was that about Norman helping you, _Ethan_?"

It was Mars's – Ethan's – turn to go slightly red in the face as his expression otherwise became quite blank. "…He stopped you from hitting me, as I recall…"

"…Right. And that's the only help he gave?" Carter asked dryly, wondering how far he could push the man before he got some honest-to-God confirmation about the "mystery" of their red herring suspect vanishing from a packed police station.

"Well…He saved Shaun. I'd qualify that as helping, wouldn't you?" Ethan replied with a smile, folding his arms. Carter couldn't help but be rather impressed by his easygoing composure as he lied right to his face.

"You're a much more convincing liar than _he _is, I'll give you that." he sighed, hoping to end the subject – he knew a losing battle when he saw one. Turning around, he found that Ethan had already attempted to hang the ropes from one of the tree's sturdier branches. Carter moved in to examine the knots for durability, observing the architect's handiwork with a wince. "Oh, Christ…it's not a fucking shoelace, Ethan." With an irritable sigh, he undid the double knot Ethan had made with the rope. "C'mere…I'll show'yah how to do it properly."

Ethan closed the distance between them, looking up curiously as Carter threw one side of the rope over the branch. "For something like this, you wanna use a bowline knot…Form a loop at the tail, see?" He moved over slightly so Ethan could observe his work. "Then pass the short end –" he pulled the side of the rope hanging off the tree to demonstrate the difference, "– around the standing end…pull it through the loop…" He paused for a moment, trying to remember the next step. "Then wrap the short end around itself, and back through the loop again." Carter took a step back, nodding towards his handiwork. "Then…just pull." He yanked the rope down harshly, satisfied when the knot tightened, secure against the tree branch.

"Where'd you learn that?" Ethan asked, sounding rather impressed. "Something they teach you on the force?"

"No…" Carter froze where he stood, a cold chill running down his back as an image of the man who had taught him the trick flashed through his brain. "A uh…a friend of mine taught me how to do it. Used to be a Marine, so he was pretty familiar with that kind of stuff…"

Ethan nodded thoughtfully before looking around on the ground. "Ah…dammit, I think I left the seat inside. I'll be right back."

Carter hardly registered the man's departure, exhaling deeply before looking up at the rope hatefully, as if it was its fault. It had been ages since he had thought about the man he had referenced - something that was exceedingly more painful to do in front of one of the man's attempted victims. Not even just Ethan – every person in the house had almost fallen victim to Scott Shelby in some form.

'_Might have tried to kill you too, if the investigation in that clock store had gone differently... _

That gut wrenching, stabbing thought was a first, yet Carter didn't doubt its truthfulness. Even long after the case's closure, he thought back to when Scott had stood in the middle of the station, arrest warrant hanging over his head due to his suspicious role in the murder – and he had just fucking let him go. Because they had been friends.

Or at least, that's what Carter had always thought. Had murder already been on his former partner's mind during all their years on the Philadelphian police force together? And not just any murder – Scott had targeted kids, for god's sake. All to test their fathers, in an attempt to find a decent parent in a declining society. If Scott had targeted the fathers of abused parents, Carter _might_ have been more sympathetic – it was something that certainly hit closer to home to him as well – but to kill a child was unjustifiable by the very definition of the word. It certainly didn't help that Scott had barely even alluded to having a troubled childhood; if he had just trusted his partner a_ little_ fucking bit to open up to him, the whole incident could have been avoided. Yet at the same time, he couldn't throw the blame on Scott completely; it wasn't like he had ever asked. That failure on his part cut deeper than his failure to keep Scott under arrest. Not that it mattered anymore… Scott was dead.

And the man who had caused said death was inside cooking his fucking dinner, hardly fifty feet away. He'd never be able to sit and listen to Scott's story - the history of someone he once considered one of his closest friends - because Norman had killed him. Somehow, despite all the time that had passed, that connection had never fully clicked in Carter's brain like it was now. An unprecedented kind of anger surged through his system now for the agent now, more powerful than any ill-will he had felt for the man previously. The only word he could compare it to was an ultimate sense of betrayal. Despite his best intentions, Norman had somehow snuck past his defenses and secured an undeniably intimate role in his life. Yet all along, he had been the one who was responsible for the death of another person that Carter had permitted to get close to him, albeit in a different sense of the word. Carter had never been able to do the same for his ex-partner – and now he'd never be able to.

"Mr. Blake? Can you tie the other side now?"

The words of a child were the equivalent of an electric shock, snapping Carter back to reality utterly and completely – he hadn't even noticed Shaun had joined him. Trying to regain his composure, Carter closed his eyes tightly before opening them to look down at the boy that had almost been Scott's ninth victim. His eyes were still slightly bloodshot from earlier, but his usual cheerful demeanor was back, meeting his eyes with a smile.

_No. Norman didn't kill Scott…he killed the Origami Killer. Scott died the moment he killed that first kid._

His expression softened at the realization, hatred leaving his body in order to make room for the guilt flooding his system instead. Forcing a smile, he bent his knee to meet the kid on his level. "…Nah…You tie it, it's good practice. I'll help'yah up."

Lifting from his knees, Carter caught Shaun around his waist and lifted him up with a grunt of exertion. "Christ – you're heavy, kid."

A small laugh caught Carter's attention as he spotted Ethan returning with the swing's seat in hand. He flashed them both a smile before nodding in agreement. "I know, right? Hard to believe I used to be able to carry him around on my shoulders."

Carter rolled the words over in his head for a moment with a slight smile, remembering the first time he had picked up the child in question. Back then as he carried Shaun from the warehouse to his car, he hadn't really registered the boy's weight – his mind was in far too many different places to even give it any thought. Having spent days without food or water, Carter doubted he had weighed all that much anyway. Now, however, he was properly nourished, and seemed to have grown several inches since the incident - he must have had a growth spurt.

He ignored his exhausted muscles screaming in protest at the exertion of lifting the boy as he quietly reiterated the instructions on how to form the knot, closely observing Shaun's work. From the corner of his eye, he could see Ethan watching even as he tied the swing's seat to the edge of the ropes, a peaceful expression on his face.

Perhaps visiting the Mars's house hadn't been_ that_ terrible of an idea.

* * *

><p>"Two aces…" Norman mumbled, reaching forward to set the cards on top of the pile in the middle of the table.<p>

"Bullshit," Carter called, barely looking up to spare Norman a glance. He smirked lightly when he heard a loud thump on the table before Norman slid his arm to slide the sizable deck into his own pile.

"How'd you know he wasn't telling the truth?" Madison asked, sounding rather impressed as her eyebrows rose in surprise. "Could've fooled me…"

"His accent gets thicker when he's makin' shit up," Carter explained. Upon looking up, he noted Madison had a tiny smile on her face, eyes glinting similarly with amusement. Carter's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he opened his mouth to speak, yet Norman overrode him.

"No it-…does it really?" Norman asked in a startled tone, suddenly self-conscious. The reaction made both him and Madison laugh before the sound of a door closing cut them off. Looking up, Carter spotted Ethan quietly walking his way back to the kitchen table.

"Shaun go to bed okay?" Carter asked lightly once Ethan situated himself into his chair, grabbing his own cards.

Ethan chuckled in response. "Nah, he didn't want to with everyone still here, but even with school out I don't want him up too late…What're we on? Threes?"

"Twos," Madison corrected, leaning across the table to kiss the side of Ethan's clean-shaven face.

With a slight grimace, Ethan leaned forward to set down a card. "One two…"

"-…Bullshit," Madison called in an upbeat fashion without missing a beat, retreating back to her chair.

Sighing, Ethan pulled the card back into his hands. "You know I can't lie to you, Mad…"

"Nah, she looked at'yah ca'hds when she kissed you, Ethan," Norman interjected without looking up, his eyes squinted as he continued the task of rearranging the huge amount of cards in his hands. Carter grinned at the look of indignation on Madison's face as she glared at the agent.

"Norman, this is why nobody wants to play cards with law enforcement!" she exclaimed, slamming her cards on the table in mock frustration.

"Where the hell's that put me?" Carter asked dryly.

"You don't count. Think I didn't notice you slipping a third card in when you claimed to put down two last round?"

Carter coughed in shock, taken aback by the observational skills of the woman across from him. Clearly, Madison was someone he needed to keep an eye on. In an attempt to avoid the accusation, he turned to Ethan and asked, "So…you been finding work okay out here?"

His desire to change the subject wasn't lost on Ethan as he smiled slightly before replying, "Yeah, work's in pretty high demand in the suburbs. The city limits keep expanding, so a commission's never that hard to find. As long as the area's crime rate stays down, the work'll keep coming…Though," he added, the corner of his mouth twitching upward again, "with Madison around, I don't have too much hope…" He sighed, though the exhale implied amusement more than resignation. Madison sent him a glare nonetheless, prompting Norman to join in so she couldn't focus her anger on Ethan entirely.

"You do kind of attract serial killah's, Madison," he pointed out fairly.

It was Carter's turn to interject now- he didn't quite know Madison well enough that he was comfortable making fun of her just yet. Besides, Norman was a much more entertaining target. "What, and you don't? How many times did you get the shit kicked outta'yah during the case?"

Madison sent him a grateful look, and he had to admit he smirked lightly back at her, his irritation for the woman diminishing slightly as she joined him in the game of abusing Norman. "Maybe they just think we're cute," she suggested dryly, reaching forward to grab him by the cheek with her thumb and forefinger. His eyes narrowed slightly before jerking his face away.

Carter watched the interaction in amusement, taking a sip of his drink before lowering the glass back onto the table. "I think I remember _something_ about handcuffs in your report about Jackson Neville…" He was forced to turn a grunt of pain into a cough as Norman harshly kicked him in the shins under the table. Fortunately, Madison and Ethan were too busy laughing to make note of it.

"They're not wrong…" Ethan tilted his head slightly to meet Madison's eyes, who flashed him a playful smile in return. As she leaned forward to hug his arm, he added, "…Once they realize what they'd have to put up with, though, the serial killer side wins out…"

The grin on Carter's face grew; upon a shared glance of sympathy with Ethan, he found himself laughing with the other man as Norman and Madison watched them with plainly annoyed looks on both their faces.

"You know, it's getting pretty late," the reporter pointed out with exaggerated volume, her grip tightening around her fiancé's arm with entirely too much force. Ethan winced, his laughter cut short; though he displayed difficulty in making his grin disappear entirely.

"Yeah, we should probably get goin'," Norman agreed loudly, setting his huge pile of cards back on the table irritably. Carter drained the rest of his glass with a grin, setting it back on the table again as he joined the three in standing up.

"Don't let the wedding be the next time we see each other," Ethan said, the firmness in his voice spoiled by a smile as he reached out to shake Carter's hand.

Carter couldn't help but smile back slightly at the man as he grasped his hand. "You know, Ethan…I might take'yah up on that."

From behind him, he felt a hand clasp his shoulders with a little too much force. The length of the nails told him before she even came into view that it was Madison. He spared her a glance and she grinned back, walking past him to approach Norman. The young woman was tall enough that she was able to reach Norman's ear when she stood up on her toes, leaning in. Carter couldn't make out what she whispered to the agent, but it made his face flush with mixed anger and embarrassment as he scowled down at her. She just grinned back, playfully hitting his arm before affectionately patting his shoulder. The interaction made Carter narrow his eyes slightly as a small flutter of jealousy rose in his stomach. With a huff, he leaned forward and grabbed the bureaucrat by the arm and pulled him closer.

"C'mon, it's past your bedtime," he mocked, dragging the scowling agent towards the front door.

Ethan chuckled at the sight, following them out. "You know, Norman, you're more than welcome to stay the night here if you haven't booked a hotel room yet."

The offer made both men intensely grateful the darkness outside hid their faces as Norman stumbled over his words to respond, "Oh! Th-thanks, but I uh…ah'lready paid for the room…"

Ethan nodded thoughtfully before raising his hand in a farewell gesture. "Ah, well…Keep it in mind next time. Take care, you two."

"Y-you too, Ethan."

* * *

><p>"What was the point in showerin'?"<p>

The shudders of the agent beneath him grew as his lips slowly made their way from his shoulder to his neck. Carter couldn't help but admire the smooth skin underneath his lips, listening almost hungrily to the soft yet still highly audible breathes Norman was fighting to control. For a moment he tore his lips away from the delicate flesh, soaking in the sight of the man underneath him lying on his back as Carter straddled his hips.

_Fuck…I'm gonna miss this._

His acknowledgement was almost as irritating as the fact itself. Tomorrow, he'd be going back to work, leaving Norman to return to D.C. After spending the past couple of weeks together, interrupted only by Norman's own job…it would take some time to adjust back to his usual routine. It was enough to make him feel like a kid again, gloomily packing their backpack as the weekend before the end of summer vacation came to a close.

Carter pushed the thought aside, using it instead as motivation to milk to moment in front of him for what it was worth. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to the side of Jayden's face. His facial hair tickled the skin of his clean-shaven partner, making the man jerk away immediately upon contact. Grinning slightly, he moved a hand to cuff Jayden's face, pushing him back against his lips as they slowly made their way to his ear.

In response to the agent's still-standing question, Carter bit down lightly on the piece of flesh before drawing back. "You really thought I'd let you go without doin' this one last time?" Without waiting for a response, he slid the hand cupping his face to the back of his head, pushing the agent up into a bruising kiss. A muffled noise of surprise left Norman's lips before he returned the motion in kind.

Without breaking off the kiss, Carter's free hand began trailing down Norman's side until they made contact with one of the few blemished parts of Norman's otherwise soft body. Without thinking, Carter traced the lined scar from his stomach with a finger, following the curve it took to his back. Norman broke off the kiss in response to the unusual act, looking down to watch before meeting Carter's eyes.

"…That's the one Sco-…Shelby gave you, right?" he mumbled, his good mood spoiled as he thought of the late man again. The guilt from earlier hit him full force, making him avert his eyes. The teasing from earlier this evening aside, Carter could easily recall a few times when he had given Norman shit for getting sliced by a katana of all things. But the situation seemed significantly less comical now – and he couldn't help but wonder why that was. He reasoned it was likely due to seeing Shaun again; the living proof of how dangerous Scott had been. Fuck, the size of the wound was already significant...if more force had been applied, Norman could've easily died. The thought made his chest tighten uncomfortably as he shifted on top of the man in question.

"The Origami Kill'ah? Yeah." Norman sounded disinterested in his response, more focused on Carter's tense demeanor. He found himself under the profiler's scrutinizing gaze as he sat himself up as much as Carter's weight on top of him would allow. To his relief, he didn't push the subject, instead leaning forward to lightly press his lips against the side of Carter's face.

Carter didn't even acknowledge the unusually affectionate act, his mind completely elsewhere. Obviously Scott's assault on Norman in the rather sketchy club hadn't ended fatally, but the next time they had met...Even knowing Scott's demise, Norman could have easily been the one instead who died. He almost _was_, if Carter recalled the report correctly...Allegedly, Norman had actually helped Scott up after he had almost fallen into the grinder the first time.

A rush of a wide array of emotions flushed through his system at the recollection. Concern was certainly one of the most prominent, but anger wasn't far behind. Norman was so fucking naive! Helping the guy who was actively trying to kill you just seconds ago? What had he expected Scott to do - shake his hand, realize the errors in his ways, and fucking resurrect all the kids he'd killed? What if Norman hadn't reacted quickly enough to his attack and died instead, all because he had to be so...so god damn good natured?

A small growl rose from his throat just as Norman's lips brushed against it. In surprise at both the noise and feel of it, Norman peered up at him to shoot him a confused look, his puzzled expression contrasting greatly with Carter's infuriated one.

"...Cartah, are you ah'ka-"

"You're so _fucking _stupid, Norman." Without waiting for a response, Carter grabbed his face with both hands to force him back in for another kiss. Once their lips met, his hands slipped down slowly to Norman's sides again before wrapping his arms around the man entirely, pulling him in to a gruff embrace. Given the close proximity, Carter could feel Norman's eyebrows furrow in surprise. He took advantage of Carter pulling away slightly in order to catch a breath to jerk his head away. "Why-"

Not particularly desiring to put into words his gut wrenching concern, Carter broke off the question by pressing his lips to Norman's again. The agent pulled his face away, seeking to finish the interrupted line of questioning. "…am I stupid…?"

With great irritation, Carter shot a hand up to cup his face again. "Jayden, you want to stop runnin' your fucking mouth for a minute and kiss me back?" He felt the lips underneath his twist into a grin before the man complied.

It was Norman that finally broke off the kiss after a few charged moments. His eyes now half-lidded, he regarded the cop still seated on top of him thoughtfully. "Let's focus on you for a change…Lieutenant," Norman mused quietly. The use of his title in the midst of the current situation sent a heat of arousal to his already hardened member. It wasn't quite enough to quell the uncomfortable thoughts still stabbing at his stomach – but it was enough for him to allow the agent to shift out from underneath him.

Now on an equal level with Carter, Norman raised his hands before gently laying them to rest on his shoulders. The soft pieces of flesh were completely at odds with Carter's worn skin. His fingertips slid downward, brushing similarly against Carter's own copious amounts of scars and other long-since healed wounds. To an outsider it'd prove as an indicator that his occupational choice was far from safe either – but to Carter, the scars were proof, gathered over a long career of close calls, that he knew how to take care of himself. Norman was still green in his profession, as far as he was concerned. Even putting aside his physical well-being, his job posed a threat to his mental being as well; evidenced after the closing of the Origami case. Panic attacks weren't out of the ordinary after such a close run-in with death, but the symptoms Norman exhibited lasted a full two months after the case's closure. Even after witnessing the man resolve to take care of the problem, he had caught, despite Norman's best efforts, small glimpses of them every now and then. Though not recently, it was true…Still, the memories of Norman so pale and skinny after working a tough case were still fresh in his mind. Though his current case appeared to be relatively without stress, and Norman hadn't worked a particularly dangerous assignment in months, Carter had no doubt both types of cases were simply a part of the job that would continue to come as long as Norman himself continued his career. Carter couldn't place why it bothered him so much – it was Norman's choice, and obviously something he was passionate about. He didn't exactly have the high ground either, with his recent hospitalization. With all those factors combined, he couldn't just tell the kid to start from scratch and pick a less self-destructive job…so why did he want to so badly?

"Cartah, are 'yah even payin' attention?"

The comment snapped Carter back to the present as he glanced down at the man currently straddling his thighs, hands pressed against his sides. Despite sounding rather offended, Norman was wearing an amused grin as he studied Carter's face carefully.

Carter shifted uncomfortably, trying to shove aside his newly realized preoccupations for the young agent now on top of him. Seeking to alleviate the tension, he forced a jackass grin and said, "Maybe you should put more effort into holding my attention?"

He had to admit the younger man's next action caught him off guard. Though he looked rather taken aback to the jibe, Norman recovered quickly before shoving his full body weight into pushing him down by the shoulders so he found himself lying flat on his back. Before Carter could voice any objections at the sudden display of dominance, his lips were captured once more with unprecedented force. Such an act put Carter on the defensive immediately; he tried to sit up again, only to quickly be shoved back into the bed. Being on the receiving end of such an action by_ Norman_ of all people was not only shocking – but the sudden shot of pleasure it sent to his groin proved it to be arousing as well.

Norman's lips left his, though he made no move to get up in case Carter tried to get up again. Hot air now brushed instead against his face; it was oddly refreshing, despite the heat, as it smelled strongly of the minty toothpaste the man had just used.

"C'mon, Cartah…" Despite the completely compromising position, Norman's words were surprisingly reassuring in their gentleness. There wasn't a hint of a demeaning undertone in the words – it was enough to make Carter's cheeks flash red in embarrassment. "Just relax'n leave it to me…"

Carter complied with the latter order, but "relaxed" was the last thing he felt as the agent's hot breath trailed from his neck down his torso. It was joined by his hands, which left his shoulders and slowly moved down as well, gently caressing the muscular form beneath them. Carter clenched his eyes shut upon feeling the breath make contact with his cock, the organ stiffening even further at the sensation. Gentle yet firm hands clasped his waist, making Carter jerk slightly in surprise. All thoughts of protest died instantly as he felt Norman's warm mouth slowly wrap around the head.

"_Ohhh fuck_, Norm…" Carter groaned as the younger man removed his mouth for a moment to run his tongue down the base of his cock, allowing him to take in more when he ran his tongue back up and wrapped his lips around the throbbing organ again.

The sensation made his eyes snap open. Looking down he was greeted with the sight of Norman's drying hair beginning to curl in every direction, stubbornly defying its owner's normally uptight nature. It was another feature about the younger man he had come to admire; precisely because he was the only one who got to admire it, as Norman always tamed it in order to maintain his professional appearance. The fact that he didn't feel the need to do so around Carter anymore further solidified the idea that Jayden was his.

He longed to reach down and grab the locks, to use them as leverage and something else to focus on so he could continue enjoying Norman's ongoing ministrations – yet as he propped himself up on his elbows with those intentions in mind, Norman withdrew his mouth entirely from his still throbbing member, precum practically weeping out of the tip from the sudden neglect. The loud growl that rose from Carter's throat in response was met only with a highly amused laugh as the agent wiped away the trail of fluid that connected the two.

"Oh,_ now_ you're payin' attention?" The taunt was matched with a mocking grin Carter had to admit he had never expected to see from the usually good-natured man. It made all feelings of control slip away – he found himself wanting to punch the smirk off the little smartass, or shove his dick between the mocking lips – do _something_ in order to regain dominance –

The thought was interrupted completely as Norman ran his tongue down his shaft, eliciting a soft moan from Carter as he laid back down again, unconsciously signaling submission. Instead of wrapping his soft lips around the incredibly stiff organ again like Carter so desperately wanted, Norman's tongue continued downward until it made contact with his swollen balls. For a moment he lapped at the engorged things, making Carter gasp with pleasure. His tongue continued to move down, licking at the sensitive spot between his ass and testicles…before moving down entirely to lick across his anus.

"Whoa – Norman, what the _fuck_-" Completely startled, Carter pulled his hips back in disbelief and disgust despite the pleasurable feeling it had brought.

"We just showered," Norman reminded him dryly before moving back in to trace his tongue around the entrance again. Carter couldn't quite bite back a small moan, making Norman stop for a moment. Without pulling away, he asked, "…You want me to stop?" Carter bit his lip in pleasure, trying to convince himself more than Norman that the answer was yes. After a moment's silence – and to his complete disappointment – he did.

The cold air of the bedroom hit against his crotch and ass as Norman pulled away, made worse by the fact that both places were soaked in saliva. It served as a cruel remainder of the complete lack of stimulation in both areas. It was enough to make him growl in sexual frustration again as he gave in to the question. "…No."

Norman complied with his wishes wordlessly, leaning forward to trace the ring of muscle again before the soft, sopping wet muscle punctured its way inside completely. Disapproving thoughts of the action in general were shoved aside to make way for the pleasure it brought. Without giving it any more thought, Carter thrust his hips forward to allow Norman's tongue to enter him further. Soft yet surprisingly strong hands made their way from Carter's hips to his thighs, thumbs gently stroking the flesh there for a moment before lightly pushing them apart more. Carter was too unfocused to concentrate on the implication that Norman was spreading him apart like a girl in order to gain better access to his body.

Then without warning, the pleasure slowly faded away as Norman withdrew his tongue completely, bringing his head up to meet Carter's eyes, which had just snapped open in both confusion and heavy irritation. A small smile played at Norman's lips again as he began to back away from his body entirely.

"_Norman, I swear to God…"_

The agent just chuckled in response to the open ended threat, lazily propping his arms back on the bed to better regard the man lying in front of him. "What, Cartah?"

The little bastard's arrogance had finally reached an intolerable level. A growl escaped from Carter's throat again as he rose quickly to show Norman exactly _"what"._ The movement was swift enough to not allow Norman time to react, with the exception of the cocky grin disappearing from his face. Pushing the man down so he was once again lying down on his back underneath him, Carter kept a firm hand pushed against his chest before casting his gaze downward to Norman's fully erect, yet still untouched member. Grimacing slightly, Carter accepted his next plan of action to be the best way to continue uninterrupted. It was thus with minimal hesitation that he leaned forward, taking into his mouth as much of the man as he could without causing himself discomfort.

"J-Jesus Christ, Cartah!" the younger man cried out, shooting a hand down to grip his hair. Carter made a face- this was exactly why he had tied up Norman last time he had performed such acts on the younger, more readily submissive man. The idea of being touched back whilst administrating pleasure in such a fashion was embarrassing and demeaning to say the _least_. In response, he removed his mouth entirely, leaning back in to work his tongue around Norman's dick instead, slathering it with saliva before pulling away. The small whimper that followed from the loss of contact made him smirk.

As Norman squirmed from underneath him, scooting to put himself into a sitting position again, Carter tried to fight every last one of his instincts that screamed at him to take the reins of control back and fuck him into the bed. His body's craving for an entirely different type of stimulation won out as he straddled the younger man's hips, the action causing him to stop struggling entirely. The distance closed between them now, Carter's first reaction was a desire to once more force the mouth still slightly opened in surprise into another kiss – but said desire was quickly and efficiently squashed as he remembered where both their mouths had just been. He pulled the man's face closer nonetheless, resting his bearded face against it as he growled straight in the agent's ear, "You're such a little _bitch_, Norman. Can't follow through without someone holdin' your fuckin' hand? Don't start shit you can't finish." With that, he shoved the shoulders of the startled agent into the bedframe, raising his own hips in preparation for what he was about to do. Quickly, as to not allow for Norman or his conflicted subconscious to get a word in, he adjusted himself so that the tip of Norman's cock was pressed against his opening – and pushed down, impaling himself in one clean movement.

His entire body tensed up as his brain began to fully register the searing sensation. In a rather desperate search for comfort, his hands tightly clenched around Norman's shoulders, the man crying out in both pleasure and pain as a result. As much as he hated to admit it...Jayden wasn't small by any means. The pain was almost enough for him to feel guilty for being so brutal with the man all the time. Not to mention it left him quite confused as well – he remembered it hurting last time, but not nearly on this scale. Other than the position, he didn't note anything particularly different…

It was then that Carter recalled how exceedingly gentle the man underneath him had been during the act. Lubing him up, starting off slow…treating him like a doting lover would more than anything else. He wasn't sure whether to feel flattered, grateful, embarrassed, or completely furious. He settled with the last emotion, as it was easily the one he had the most experience with.

Reading his still pained expression, Norman bit his lip before reluctantly saying, "We shouldn't do it this way, it's not-"

"What, you think I can't fuckin' handle it, Norm?" he interrupted with a sneer, ignoring the pain receptors throughout his lower body that were screaming for compliance to Norman's suggestion. Denying it, and subsequently Norman himself, gave Blake back a sense of normalcy - of control - as he unsteadily pushed his hips down, taking in more of Norman's considerably lengthy shaft. The urge to prove that_ he_ at least could handle a little bit of pain overshadowed the searing and unpleasant sensation.

It couldn't completely do away with his discomfort, however. In response to a small grunt of pain Carter hadn't quite managed to conceal, Norman slowly opened his eyes. "It'll hurt a lot less if you relax, Cartah…" All traces of the teasing undertone from earlier were gone, replaced instead by that same gentleness that made Carter's face heat up in embarrassment. As much as he wanted to shove aside Norman's advice, it simply made too much sense to completely ignore. He rolled his shoulders forward, taking a deep breath in an attempt to rid his body of tension before moving his hips downward again. It was significantly less painful, allowing him to continue the rhythm much easier. Still, he couldn't help wondering why it wasn't as pleasurable as last ti-

The next push downward caused an intense wave of pleasure to wash over his body, dwarfing the pain. Taken so completely by surprise, he had no time to attempt to subdue the sharp moan that followed. His already half closed eyes narrowed further upon seeing the tiny hint of a smile playing at Norman's lips.

"You all right, Cartah?"

Recalling what Norman often did to him in response to his own taunts during sex, Carter tensed up and shoved his hips down. It did have the desired effects of drawing out a hushed moan from the condescending little prick, but the action inadvertently hit him just right again, his own pleasured cry much louder as he thrust down for more. Through his now blurred vision, he could see Norman grinning again.

"Fuck – Fuck you – _Fuck_…" His hips were moving rapidly now, almost as if they had a mind of their own. If Carter was completely honest with himself, he wouldn't have stopped them if he wanted to. Now that the highly sensitive organ inside him had been so effectively stimulated, he didn't want the pleasure to stop.

He could at least relish in the fact that Norman was no longer grinning at him like a jackass, his eyes tightly clenched shut instead, mouth parted to allow his own pleasurable pants to escape. He began thrusting up to match Carter's movements – humiliation at the deed took a backseat to the increased pleasure it caused them both. The warm, tightening clench around his abdomen served as an indicator that he wasn't going to be able to keep this up much longer; in response, Carter shot his hands out to grasp the agent's shoulders, using him as leverage so he could quicken his own pace, milking the final moments for what they were worth. The sudden increase in speed was too much for the man underneath him; as Norman cried out in pleasure, Carter felt the organ inside him pulsate before a shooting warmth filled him. The surprisingly pleasant sensation, combined with the look of rapture on Norman's face, was enough to throw him over the edge as well. Gritting his teeth in an attempt to bite back a highly pleasured moan, Carter pushed his hips down one last time before resting his face into Norman's shoulder, further muffling the noise as he came all over his stomach. For a moment he remained there, panting heavily into the soft flesh as Norman's own breath hit the back of his neck, both of them trying to recover.

Wincing only slightly, Carter pulled himself off Norman's now softening member, losing his balance completely as he fell on his back onto the bed with a content sigh. He opened an eye, spotting Norman lean his head against the bedframe, still panting slightly. A rush of satisfaction surged through his exhausted body, stemming from the thought that he had effectively worn the cocky agent out. Smirking lightly, he shifted himself up on his elbow, loosely capturing Norman's wrist with his free hand. The agent blinked in surprise, but allowed himself to be pulled forward, falling back onto Carter's arm. Carter took advantage of this to pull him closer before adjusting the limb into a makeshift pillow for the man.

"Don't spoil this by runnin' your mouth," he warned lightly, shifting his back into the bed in an attempt to make himself more comfortable, eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Norman replied sleepily before lazily nuzzling his face into Carter's chest, drifting off to sleep before either could get in another word.


End file.
